No wonder, then, that the preparations of the foretop-men were regarded with unfavorable eyes.  The unseen hand of authority, nevertheless, held all in restraint.  Cuffe himself did not dare to hesitate any longer.  The necessary orders were given, though with deep reluctance, and then the captain went below, as if to hide himself from human eyes.

The ten minutes that succeeded were minutes of intense concern.  All hands were called, the preparations had been completed, and Winchester waited only for the reappearance of Cuffe, to issue the order to have the prisoner placed on the grating.  A midshipman was sent into the cabin, after which the commanding officer came slowly, and with a lingering step, upon the quarter-deck.  The crew was assembled on the forecastle and in the waists; the marine guard was under arms; the officers clustered around the capstan; and a solemn, uneasy expectation pervaded the whole ship.  The lightest footfall was audible.  Andrea and his friend stood apart, near the taffrail, but no one saw Carlo Giuntotardi or his niece.

“There is yet some five-and-twenty minutes of sun, I should think, Mr. Winchester,” observed Cuffe, feverishly glancing his eye at the western margin of the sea, toward which the orb of day was slowly settling, gilding all that side of the vault of heaven with the mellow lustre of the hour and latitude.

“Not more than twenty, I fear, sir,” was the reluctant answer.

“I should think five might suffice, at the worst; especially if the men make a swift run.”  This was said in a half whisper, and thick husky tones, the Captain looking anxiously at the lieutenant the while.

Winchester shrugged his shoulders, and turned away, unwilling to reply.

Cuffe now had a short consultation with the surgeon, the object of which was to ascertain the minimum of time a man might live, suspended by the neck at the yard-arm of a frigate.  The result was not favorable; for a sign followed to bring forth the prisoner.

Raoul came on deck, in charge of the master-at-arms and the officer who had acted as provost-marshal.  He was clad in his clean white lazzarone garb, wearing the red Phrygian cap already mentioned.  Though his face was pale, no man could detect any tremor in the well-turned muscles that his loose attire exposed to view.  He raised his cap courteously to the group of officers, and threw an understanding glance forward at the fearful arrangement on the fore-yard.  That he was shocked when the grating and rope met his eye, is unquestionable; but, rallying in an instant, he smiled, bowed to Cuffe, and moved toward the scene of his contemplate execution, firmly, but without the smallest signs of bravado in his manner.

A deathlike stillness prevailed, while the subordinates adjusted the rope, and placed the condemned man on the grating.  Then the slack of the rope was drawn in by hand, and the men were ordered to lay hold of the instrument of death, and to stretch it along the deck.