“Signor Barrofaldi,” he said, “stick to the lugger.  All our motives of suspicion came from Tommaso Tonti, and all of his from the rig of Signor Smees’ vessel.  If the lugger can be explained, what do we care about bixy, buxy, boxy!”

The vice-governatore was not sorry to get creditably out of the difficulties of the language, and, smiling on his friend, he made a gentle bow of compliance.  Then he reflected a moment, in order to plan another mode of proceeding, and pursued the inquiry.

“My neighbor Vito Viti is right,” he said, “and we will stick to the lugger.  Tommaso Tonti is a mariner of experience, and the oldest pilot of Elba.  He tells us that the lugger is a craft much in use among the French, and not at all among the English, so far as he has ever witnessed.”

“In that Tommaso Tonti is no seaman.  Many luggers are to be found among the English; though more, certainly, among the French.  But I have already given the Signor Viti to understand that there is such an island as Guernsey, which was once French, but which is now English, and that accounts for the appearances he has observed.  We are Guernsey-men—­the lugger is from Guernsey—­and, no doubt, we have a Guernsey look.  This is being half French, I allow.”

“That alters the matter altogether.  Neighbor Viti, this is all true about the island, and about its habits and its origin; and if one could be as certain about the names, why, nothing more need be said.  Are Giac Smees, and Ving-y-Ving, Guernsey names?”

“They are not particularly so,” returned the sailor, with difficulty refraining from laughing in the vice-governatore’s face; “Jaques Smeet’ being so English, that we are the largest family, perhaps, in all Inghilterra.  Half the nobles of the island are called Smeet’, and not a few are named Jaques.  But little Guernsey was conquered; and our ancestors who performed that office brought their names with them, Signore.  As for Ving-and-Ving, it is capital English.”

“I do not see, Vito, but this is reasonable.  If the capitano, now, only had his commission with him, you and I might go to bed in peace, and sleep till morning.”

“Here, then, Signore, are your sleeping potions,” continued the laughing sailor, drawing from his pocket several papers.  “These are my orders from the admiral; and, as they are not secret, you can cast your eyes over them.  This is my commission, Signor Vice-governatore—­this is the signature of the English minister of marine—­and here is my own, ’Jaques Smeet’’ as you see, and here is the order to me, as a lieutenant, to take command of the Ving-and-Ving.”