Some signs of impatience had begun to manifest themselves among his people, ere Raoul made up his mind to the course he would follow.  But when he landed, supporting Ghita, that chivalry of character and homage to the sex, which distinguish the southern Frenchman, changed the current of feeling, and their two acquaintances were received with acclamation.  The act of self-devotion seemed heroic, and that it always enough to draw applause among a people so keenly alive to glory.  Still, the time to make the necessary dispositions was short.  Fortunately, the surgeon had taken his post on this islet, as the probably scene of the warmest conflict; and he had contrived to make his preparations to receive the hurt, in a cavity of the rock behind a portion of the ruin, where the person would be reasonably safe.  Raoul saw the advantages of this position, and he led Ghita and her uncle to it, without pausing to deliberate.  Here he tenderly embraced the girl, a liberty Ghita could not repel at such a moment; then he tore himself away to attend to duties which had now become urgently pressing.

In point of fact, Sir Frederick Dashwood had made his disposition, and was advancing to the assault, being already within the range of grape.  For the obvious reason of preventing the French from attempting to escape to the shore, he chose to approach from that side himself—­an arrangement that best suited Raoul; who, foreseeing the probability of the course, had made his own preparations with an eye to such an event.

Of boats, there were eight in sight, though only seven were drawing near, and were in line.  Six had strong crews, were armed, and were evidently fitted for action.  Of these, three had light boat-guns in their bows, while the other three carried small-arms-men only.  The seventh boat was the Terpsichore’s gig, with its usual crew, armed; though it was used by the commanding officer himself as a sort of cheval de bataille, in the stricter meaning of the term.  In other words, Sir Frederick Dashwood pulled through the line in it, to give his orders and encourage his people.  The eighth boat, which kept aloof, quite out of the range of grape, was a shore craft, belonging to Capri, in which Andrea Barrofaldi and Vito Viti had come, expressly to witness the capture or destruction of their old enemy.  When Raoul was taken in the Bay of Naples, these two worthies fancied that their mission was ended—­that they might return with credit to Porto Ferrajo, and again hold up their heads, with dignity and self-complacency, among the functionaries of the island.  But the recent escape, and the manner in which they had been connected with it, entirely altered the state of things.  A new load of responsibility rested on their shoulders; fresh opprobrium was to be met and put down; and the last acquisition of ridicule promised to throw the first proofs of their simplicity and dulness entirely into the shade.  Had not Griffin and his associates