Raoul had too much self-command to betray his astonishment, but in an instant every faculty he possessed was on the alert.  Ithuel, he knew, was a man for exigencies.  Experience had taught him a profound respect for his enterprise and daring, when it became necessary to act.  Something must certainly be in the wind, worthy of his attention, or this cautious person would not have exposed himself in a situation which would be sure to lead to punishment, if detected.  Ithuel was seated astride of one of the chains, beneath the main-channel of the ship, a position which might be maintained without detection, possibly, so long as it continued dark; but which in itself, if seen, would have been taken as a proof of an evil intention.

“What would you have, Etooelle?” whispered Raoul, who perceived that his companions were too much occupied to observe his movements, or to hear his words.

“The Eyetalian, and his niece, are about to go ashore.  Everything is ready and understood.  I’ve consaited you might pass out of the port, in the dark, and escape in the boat.  Keep quiet—­we shall see.”

Raoul understood his respite to be a thing of doubtful termination.  Under the most favorable results, an English prison remained in perspective, and then the other side of the picture offered the image of Ghita to his eye!  He was in a tumult of feeling, but, accustomed to self-command, no exclamation escaped him.

“When, cher Etooelle, when?” he asked, his whisper being tremulous, in spite of every effort to command himself.

“Now—­too-der-sweet—­(tout-de-suite)—­the boat is at the gangway, and old Giuntotardi is in her—­they are rigging a chair for the gal.  Aye—­there she swings off!—­don’t you hear the call?”

Raoul did hear the whistle of the boatswain, which was piping “lower away” at that very moment.  He listened intently, as he lay stretched upon the gun-tackles; and then he heard the splash in the water, as the boat was hauled closer to, in order to be brought beneath the chair.  The rattling of oars, too, was audible, as Ghita left the seat and moved aft.  “Round in,” called out the officer of the deck; after which Carlo Giuntotardi was left in quiet possession of his own boat.

The moment was exceedingly critical.  Some one, in all probability, was watching the boat from the deck; and, though the night was dark, it required the utmost caution to proceed with any hopes of success.  At this instant, Ithuel again whispered: 

“The time’s near.  Old Carlo has his orders, and little Ghita is alive to see them obeyed.  All now depends on silence and activity.  In less than five minutes, the boat will be under the port.”