“I would give anything to be on board one of our galleys,” Matteo said.  “It is horrible standing here doing nothing, when such a fight as this is going to begin.”

“Cannot we edge down towards them, captain?” Francis asked.  “I do not mean that we should take part in the fight, for we have but a hundred men, and the galleys must each carry at least three times as many.  Still, we might be near enough to see something, and perhaps to give succour to any disabled ship that drops out of the fight.”

“I will do so if you like, Messer Francisco,” the captain said.  “If you will take the responsibility.  But if our side gets the worst of it, you must remember that the Bonito may be captured.”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of Pisani being beaten by an enemy no stronger than himself,” Francis said; “and even if they should be victorious, the Genoese will certainly have enough on their hands, with repairing damages and securing prisoners, to think of setting off in chase of a ship like ours.”

“That is true enough,” the captain agreed, for he was indeed as anxious as Francis and Matteo to witness the struggle.

The vessels on both sides were under canvas, for it was impossible to row in such a sea.  As soon as they approached each other, both fleets broke up, and the vessels each singling an opponent out, the combat began.  It was a singular one, and differed widely from ordinary sea fights of the time, in which the combatants always tried to grapple with their enemies and carry them by boarding.  This was almost impossible now, for it seemed that the vessels would be dashed in pieces like eggshells were they to strike each other.  Clouds of missiles were poured from one to the other.  The archers plied their bows.  Great machines hurled javelins and big stones, and the crash of the blows of the latter, against the sides of the ships, sounded even above the noise of the wind and waves, and the shouting of the combatants.  As for the cannon with which all the galleys were armed, they were far too cumbrous and unmanageable to be worked in such weather.  Sometimes one vessel, lifted on the crest of a wave while its opponent lay in a hollow, swept its decks with terrible effect; while a few seconds later the advantage was on the other side.

For a long time, neither party seemed to gain any advantage.  Great numbers were killed on both sides, but victory did not incline either way, until the mast of one of the Venetian galleys was struck by a heavy stone and went over the side.  She at once fell out of the line of the battle, her opponent keeping close to her, pouring in volumes of missiles, while the sea, taking her on the broad side, washed numbers of her crew overboard.  Her opponent, seeing that she was altogether helpless, left her to be taken possession of afterwards, and made for Pisani’s galley, which was distinguished by its flag at the masthead, and was maintaining a desperate conflict with the galley of Fieschi.