“Get ready, men,” cried Raoul, as he paced the taffrail, “and heave at the word.  We will wait for a swell, then strain every nerve till something part. Pas encore, mes enfans—­pas encore! Stand by!—­Yonder comes a fellow who will lift us—­heave a strain—­heave harder—­heave, body and soul!—­heave, altogether!”

The men obeyed.  First they hove a gentle strain; then the effort was increased; and, obedient to the order, just as the ground-swell rolled under the lugger’s bottom, they threw out their utmost strength, and the hull started for the first time.  This was encouraging, though the movement did not exceed six inches.  It was a decided movement, and was made in the right direction.  This success nerved the people to an increased effort.  It was probable that, at the next strain, they would throw a tenth more impetus into their muscles.  Of all this Raoul was aware, and he determined not to let the feeling flag.

“Encore, mes enfans!” he said.  “Heave, and get ready!  Be watchful—­now’s your time!  Heave, and rip the planks off the lugger’s bottom—­heave, men, heave!”

This time the effort answered the emergency; the swell rolled in, the men threw out their strength, a surge was felt, it was followed up by a strain, and le Feu-Follet shot off her bed into deep water, rolling, for want of ballast, nearly to her hammock-cloths.  She soon lay directly over her anchor.

Here was success!—­triumphant success; and that at a moment when the most sanguine had begun to despair.  The men embraced each other, showing a hundred manifestations of extravagant joy.  The tears came to Raoul’s eyes; but he had no opportunity to concealing them, every officer he had pressing around him to exchange felicitations.  The scene was one of happy disorder.  It had lasted two or three minutes, when Ithuel, always cold and calculating, edged his way through the throng to his commander’s side, and pointed significantly in the direction of Campanella.  There, indeed, was visible a division of the expected boats.  It was pulling toward them, having that moment doubled the cape!

Ithuel’s gesture was too significant to escape attention, and every eye followed its direction.  The sight was of a nature not to be mistaken.  It at once changed the current of feeling in all who beheld it.  There was no longer a doubt concerning the manner in which the news of the accident had travelled, or of its effect on the English at Capri.  In point of fact, the padrone of the captured felucca, with a sole eye to the recovery of his vessel, had ascended the Scaricatojo, after landing at the Marinella, at its foot, as fast as his legs could carry him; had rather run, than glided, along the narrow lanes of the piano and the hill-side to the beach of Sorrento; had thrown himself into a boat, manned by four lusty Sorrentine watermen—­and Europe does not contain lustier or bolder; had gone on board the Terpsichore, and laid his case before Sir Frederick Dashwood, ignorant