“Now, lads,” he went on, turning to the men, “stand to your tackle.  The moment that galley gets out of sight round the point, up with the mast.”

Ten minutes later the masts were up, stout ropes were lashed round them and the stumps, and wedges driven in to tighten the cords to the utmost.  The rigging was of the simplest description, and before dark everything was in readiness for hoisting the sails.

“I don’t think they can make us out now,” the captain said.

“I don’t think they could,” Francis agreed; “but we had better wait another quarter of an hour.  It would be absurd to run any risk after everything has turned out so well; but the men can get into the boats and tow us out through the channel, then we can hoist the boats on board, and by that time it should be nearly dark enough.”

“I think there will be a breeze presently,” the captain said, “and from the right direction.  However, the men won’t mind working hard for a bit.  They have had an easy time for the last two days.”

The oars were all manned, and the men set to work with hearty goodwill.  They were delighted at their escape from the island, for they might have been there some time before they got a passage back; and still more pleased at having tricked the Genoese; and the Lido, heavy laden as she was, moved at a steady pace through the water, under the impulsion of the oars.

For an hour they rowed parallel with the shore, as, had they made out to sea, they might possibly have been seen by one of the galleys, returning late from the search for them.  At the end of that time the captain turned her head from shore.  As soon as they got well out from under the shelter of the land the breeze made itself felt, and the sails were hoisted.

For a time the men kept on rowing, but the breeze increased rapidly, and the captain ordered the oars to be laid in.  A double allowance of wine was served out, and an hour or two spent in song and hilarity; then the watch below was sent down, and Francis and Matteo turned into their cots.

In the morning the breeze was blowing strong.  The sails had been taken off the mainmast, but that on the foremast was dragging the Lido through the water at a good rate of speed, and before night they were off Cape Spartivento.  The wind held till next morning, when they were abreast of the Gulf of Taranto.  Then came a long spell of calms or baffling winds, and it was a fortnight before the campaniles of Venice were seen rising apparently from the water.

“I have been anxious about you,” Signor Polani said when Francis arrived.  “One of our galleys brought the report that a Genoese fleet was cruising on the coast of Sicily, and as, although war had not yet been openly declared, both parties were making prizes, I was afraid that they might have snapped you up.”

“They did snap us up,” Francis said smiling.  “They caught us in the port of Girgenti, and the standard of Genoa waved over the Lido.”