An exclamation of surprise and delight escaped the spectators on the promontory, as their doubts and apprehensions were thus dramatically relieved.  No one thought of Raoul at that happy moment, though to him there was nothing of new interest in the affair, with the exception of the apparent intention of the stranger to enter the bay.  As le Feu-Follet lay in plain view from the offing, he had his doubts, indeed, whether the warlike appearance of that craft was not the true reason of this sudden change in the frigate’s course.  Still, lying as he did in a port hostile to France, there was a probability that he might yet escape without a very critical or close examination.

“Signor Smees, I felicitate you on this visit of a countryman,” cried Andrea Barrofaldi, a pacific man by nature, and certainly no warrior, and who felt too happy at the prospects of passing a quiet day, to feel distrust at such a moment; “I shall do you honor in my communications with Florence, for the spirit and willingness which you have shown in the wish to aid us on this trying occasion.”

“Signor Vice-governatore, do not trouble yourself to dwell on my poor services,” answered Raoul, scarce caring to conceal the smile that struggled about his handsome mouth; “think rather of those of these gallant signori, who greatly regret that an opportunity for gaining distinction has been lost.  But here are signals that must be meant for us—­I hope my stupid fellows will be able to answer them in my absence.”

It was fortunate for le Feu-Follet, perhaps, that her commander was not on board, when the stranger, the Proserpine, the very ship that Ithuel so well knew, made her number.  The mystification that was to follow was in much better hands while conducted by the New Hampshire man than it could possibly be in his own, Ithuel answered promptly, though what, he did not know himself; but he took good care that the flags he showed should become so entangled as not to be read by those in the frigate, while they had every appearance of being hoisted fearlessly and in good faith.

CHAPTER VI.

                  “Are all prepared? 
     They are—­nay more—­embarked; the latest boat
     Waits but my chief—­My sword and my capote.”

The Corsair.

What success attended the artifice of Ithuel it was impossible to tell, so far as the frigate was concerned; though the appearance of mutual intelligence between the two vessels had a very favorable tendency toward removing suspicion from the lugger among those on shore.  It seemed so utterly improbable that a French corsair could answer the signals of an English frigate that even Vito Viti felt compelled to acknowledge to the vice-governatore in a whisper that, so far, the circumstance was much in favor of the lugger’s loyalty.  Then the calm exterior of Raoul counted for something, more especially as he remained apparently an unconcerned observer of the rapid approach of the ship.