“Clinch is active enough, and I know his besetting weakness will have no power over him to-day.  I have opened the way for a commission to him, and no one in the ship can go to Naples in a boat sooner than Clinch, if he really try.  He will make the most of the afternoon’s breeze, should there be any, and I have arranged a signal with him, by which he may let us know the result even at the distance of eight or ten miles.”

“Has Lord Nelson left no discretion in the orders, sir?”

“None; unless Raoul Yvard distinctly consent to give up the lugger.  In that case, I have a letter, which authorizes me to delay the execution until I can communicate directly with the commander-in-chief.”

“How very unlucky it has been all round!  Is there no possibility, sir, of making up a case that might render this discretion available?”

“That might do among you irresponsibles, Mr. Griffin,” answered Cuffe, a little sharply; “but I would rather hang forty Frenchmen than be Bronted by Nelson for neglect of duty”

Cuffe spoke more strongly than he intended, perhaps; but the commander of a ship-of-war does not always stop to weigh his words, when he condescends to discuss a point with an inferior.  The reply put a check upon Griffin’s zeal, however, though the discourse did not the less proceed.

“Well, sir,” the lieutenant answered, “I’m sure we are all as anxious as you can be, to avert this affair from our ship.  ’Twas but the other day we were boasting in the gun-room, to some of the Lapwing’s officers that were on a visit here, that the Proserpine never had an execution or a court-martial flogging on board her, though she had now been under the British ensign near four years, and had been seven times under fire.”

“God send, Griffin, that Clinch find the admiral, and get back in time!”

“How would it do, sir, to send the vice-governatore to try the prisoner; perhaps he might persuade him to seem to consent—­or some such thing, you know, sir, as might justify a delay.  They say the Corsicans are the keenest-witted fellows in all these seas; and Elba is so near to Corsica, that one cannot fancy there is much difference between their people.”

“Aye, your veechy is a regular witch!  He made out so well in his first interview with Yvard, that no one can doubt his ability to overlay him in another!”

“One never knows, Captain Cuffe.  The Italian has more resources than most men; and the Signor Barrofaldi is a discreet, sensible man, when he acts with his eyes open.  Le Feu-Follet has cheated others besides the vice-governatore and the podesta.”

“Aye, these d—­d Jack-o’-Lanterns are never to be trusted.  It would hardly surprise me to see the Folly coming down wing-and-wing from under the land, and passing out to sea, with a six-knot breeze, while we lay as still as a cathedral, with not enough to turn the smoke of the galley-fire from the perpendicular.”