“We did not lose sight of the probability of that, signor, but thought that, if the Genoese should gain a victory, they would be too busy with their prizes and prisoners, if not too crippled, to pursue us, and we reckoned that in such weather the Bonito would be able to sail quite as fast as any of the Genoese.”

“And now, tell me about your affairs, Francisco.  Where was it you fell in with the Genoese galley, and by what miracle did you get off?”

“It was in the battle, sir.  One of the Venetian galleys had dropped out of the fight disabled, and its opponent went to the assistance of their admiral’s ship, which was engaged with Pisani.  They attempted to board him on both sides, and, seeing that he was in great peril, and that if his ship was taken the battle would be as bad as lost, we thought that you yourself would approve of our going to his assistance.  This we did, and engaged one of their galleys; and, as her crew were occupied with the admiral, we took them by surprise, and created such a diversion that he succeeded, with what assistance we could give him, in capturing both his opponents.”

“That was done well indeed,” Polani said warmly.  “It was a risky matter, indeed, for you, with sailors unprotected by armour, to enter into a combat with the iron-clad soldiers of Genoa.

“And so the captain and twenty-seven of the men were killed!  You must have had some brisk fighting!”

“The captain, and many of the men, were shot by the Genoese archers as we ranged up alongside their vessel.  The others were killed in hand-to-hand fighting.”

“And my cousin Matteo, what has become of him?” Polani asked suddenly.  “I trust he is not among the killed!”

“He is unharmed,” Francis replied.  “He fought gallantly, and the admiral, the next day, offered to take him on board his own ship, many of the volunteers serving on board having been killed.  Matteo, of course, accepted the offer.”

“He would have done better to have stayed on board my ship for another two years,” Polani said, “and learned his business.  He would have made a far better sailor than he can ever become on board a state galley; but I never expected him to stick to it.  He has no earnestness of purpose, and is too particular about his dress to care about the rough life of a real seaman.”

“He has plenty of courage, sir, and I have always found him a staunch friend.”

“No doubt he has courage,” the merchant said.  “He comes of good blood and could hardly be a coward.  I think he is a good-hearted lad, too, and will, I have no doubt, make a brave commander of a galley; but more than that Matteo is never likely to become.”

“Your daughters are well, I hope?” Francis asked.

“Quite well; but you will not find them at home—­they sailed three days ago, in the Lido, for Corfu.  They are going to stay for a time at my villa there.  That affair of last year shook them both, and I thought it better that they should go away for a change—­the hot months here are trying, and often unhealthy.  I will go over myself next week to be with them.”