The admiral’s ship was now swept with missiles from both sides, and when his adversaries saw that his crew was greatly weakened, they prepared to close, in spite of the state of the sea.  If Pisani himself could be captured, there would remain but seven Venetian ships to the nine Genoese, and victory was certain.

The captain of the Bonito had lashed together some heavy spars and thrown them overboard, having fastened a strong rope to them, and was riding head to the waves by means of this sea anchor, at a distance of about half a mile from the conflict.  A cry of grief and rage had arisen when the crew saw that one of their galleys was disabled, and their excitement became intense when they saw the unequal struggle which Pisani was maintaining.

“They are preparing to board, captain,” Francis said.  “We must go to the admiral’s aid.  If his ship is captured, the battle is lost.”

“I am ready, Messer Francisco, if you authorize me.”

“Certainly I do,” Francis said.  “The loss or capture of the Bonito is as nothing in comparison to the importance of saving Pisani.”

The captain gave the order for the hawser to be cut, and the sail hoisted.  A cheer broke from the crew as they saw what was to be done.  Their arms had been served out at the beginning of the contest, and they now seized them, and gathered in readiness to take part in the fight.

The two Genoese galleys had thrown their grapnels and made fast, one on each side of Pisani’s galley.  The bulwarks were stove in and splintered as the vessels rolled, and the rigging of the three ships became entangled.  The Genoese sprang on to the deck of Pisani’s galley, with shouts of triumph, but they were met by the admiral himself, wielding a mighty battleaxe, and the survivors of his crew.

The combat was still raging when the Bonito sailed swiftly up.  Her sails were lowered as she came alongside, and she was lashed to one of the galleys.  But this manoeuvre was not performed without loss.  As she approached, with the Venetian flag flying at her masthead, the Genoese archers on the poop of the galley, who had hitherto been pouring their missiles among Pisani’s men, turned round and opened fire upon this new foe.  Their arrows did far more execution here than they had done among the armour clad soldiers of the state.  The captain fell dead with an arrow which struck him full in the throat, and ten or twelve of the sailors fell on the deck beside him.

“Pour in one volley,” Francis shouted; “then throw down your bows, and take to your axes and follow me.”

The instant the vessel was lashed, Francis sprang on to the deck of the galley.  Matteo was by his side, Giuseppi just behind, and the whole crew followed.  Climbing first upon the poop, they fell upon the archers, who, after a short struggle, were cut down; then, descending again to the waist of the galley, they leaped on to the deck of Pisani’s ship, and fell upon the rear of the Genoese.