“Listen, they are quarrelling up on deck!”

There was indeed a sound of men in hot dispute, a trampling of feet, a clash of steel, and the sound of bodies falling.

“It is not possible that one of our cruisers can have come up, and is boarding the pirate,” the captain said, “for no sail was in sight when we were brought here.  I looked round the last thing before I left the deck.  What can they be fighting about?”

“Likely enough, as to their course.  They have probably, from what we heard, taken and sunk several ships, and some may be in favour of returning to dispose of their booty, while others may be for cruising longer.  I only hope that scoundrel Ruggiero is among those we heard fall.  They are quiet now, and one party or the other has evidently got the best of it.  There, they are taking to the oars again.”

Several days passed.  Sometimes the oars were heard going, but generally the galley was under sail.  The sailors brought down food and water, morning and evening, but paid no other attention to the captives.  Francis discussed, with some of the other prisoners, the chances of making a sudden rush on to the deck, and overpowering the crew; but all their arms had been taken from them, and the galley, they calculated, contained fully a hundred and fifty men.  They noticed, too, when the sailors brought down the food, a party armed and in readiness were assembled round the hatchway.

At all other times the hatchway was nearly closed, being only left sufficiently open to allow a certain amount of air to pass down into the hold, and by the steady tramp of steps, up and down, they knew that two sentries were also on guard above.  Most of the prisoners were so overcome with the misfortune which had befallen them, and the prospect of a life in hopeless slavery, that they had no spirit to attempt any enterprise whatever, and there was nothing to do but to wait the termination of the voyage.

At the end of six days there was a bustle on deck, and the chain of the anchor was heard to run out.  Two or three hours afterwards the hatchway was taken off.  When the rest had ascended, two men came below with hammers, and drew the staples which fastened Francis to the deck.

On going up, he was at first so blinded with the glare of the sunshine—­after six days in almost total darkness—­that he could scarce see where he was.  The ship was lying at anchor in a bay.  The shores were low, and a group of houses stood abreast of where the ship was anchored.  By their appearance Francis saw at once that he was on the coast of Africa, or of some island near it.

The prisoners were ordered to descend into the boats which lay alongside, some sailors taking their places with them.  Ruggiero was not at first to be seen, but just as Francis was preparing to take his place in the boat, he came out from the cabin.  One of his arms was in a sling, and his head bandaged.

“Take special care of that prisoner,” he said to the men.  “Do not take off his chains, and place a sentinel at the door of the place of his confinement.  I would rather lose my share of all the spoil we have taken, than he should escape me!”