“The preparation of Porto Ferrajo is celebrated among the mariners of the Mediterranean, and, should the Frenchman venture within reach of your shot, I expect to see him unrigged faster than if he were in a dock-yard.  As for ze leetl’ Ving-and-Ving, in my opinion, while the frigate is busy with these batteries, it might be well for us to steer along the shore on the east side of the bay until we can get outside of her, when we shall have the beggars between two fires.  That was just what Nelson did at Aboukir, Signor Podesta, a battle you seem so much to admire.”

“That would be a manoeuvre worthy of a follower of Nelsoni, Signore,” observed the colonel, “if the metal of your guns were heavier.  With short pieces of twelve, however, you would hardly venture within reach of long pieces of eighteen; although the first should be manned by Inglese, and the last by Francese?”

“One never knows.  At the Nile one of our fifties laid the Orient, a three-decker, athwart-hawse, and did her lots of injury.  The vaisseau, in fact, was blown up.  Naval combats are decided on principles altogether different from engagements on the land, Signor Colonello.”

“It must be so, truly,” answered the soldier; “but what means this movement? you, as a seaman, may be able to tell us, Capitano.”

This drew all eyes to the frigate again, where, indeed, were movements that indicated some important changes.  As these movements have an intimate connection with the incidents of the tale, it will be necessary to relate them in a manner to render them more intelligible to the reader.

The distance of the frigate from the town might now have been five English miles.  Of current there was none; and there being no tides in the Mediterranean, the ship would have lain perfectly stationary all the morning, but for a very light air from the southward.  Before this air, however, she had moved to the westward about a couple of miles, until she had got the government-house nearly abeam.  At the same time she had been obliquely drawing nearer, which was the circumstance that produced the alarm.  With the sun had risen the wind, and a few minutes before the colonel interrupted himself in the manner related, the topsails of the stranger had swelled, and he began to move through the water at the rate of some four or five knots the hour.  The moment her people felt that they had complete command of their vessel, as if waiting only for that assurance, they altered her course and made sail.  Putting her helm a-starboard, the ship came close by the wind, with her head looking directly in for the promontory, while her tacks were hauled on board, and her light canvas aloft was loosened and spread to the breeze.  Almost at the same instant, for everything seemed to be done at once, and as by instinct, the French flag was lowered, another went up in its place, and a gun was fired to leeward—­a signal of amity.  As this second emblem of nationality blew out, and opened to the breeze, the glasses showed the white field and St. George’s cross of the noble old ensign of England.