No hostile sail was seen during the voyage back to Venice.  Francis remained in command of the little squadron, for the captains, and many of the superior officers, had been transferred to the galley of the officer in command of the squadron, and Francis happened to be the only second officer on board any of the four ships.

Great care was observed when they approached Venice, as, for aught they knew, Doria’s squadron might be blockading the port.  The Genoese fleet, however, was still cruising on the coast of Dalmatia, capturing port after port of the Venetian possessions there.

The four vessels passed through the channel of the Lido with their colours flying.  When first observed from the watchtower of Venice, they were supposed to form part of the squadron of Zeno, but as soon as they cast anchor, and the news spread that they were four of Pisani’s galleys, which had been recaptured from the Genoese, the delight of the population was immense.

The ships were speedily surrounded by a fleet of boats, containing relatives and friends of those taken prisoners at the battle of Polo, and the decks were crowded with persons inquiring after their friends, or embracing with delight those whom they had, an hour before, believed to be either dead or immured in the dungeons of Genoa.

One of the first to appear was Polani, who had early received the news by a swift boat from one of his ships in the port, that the Pluto was one of the vessels entering the harbour.

“What miracle is this, Francis?” he asked, as he warmly embraced his young friend.

“Not a miracle at all, Messer Polani.  The Genoese fancied that a guard of fifty men was amply sufficient to keep a hundred and fifty Venetians captives, and we taught them their mistake.”

“It wasn’t we,” Matteo put in, as he shook hands with his kinsman.  “We had no more idea of escaping than we had of flying.  The whole thing was entirely the work of Francisco here.”

“I might have been sure the Genoese would not keep you long, Francisco,” Polani said; “and the girls and I might have spared ourselves the pain of fretting for you.  But how did it all come about?”

“If you will take me to the Piazza in your gondola, I will tell you all about on the way,” Francis replied.  “For, absurd as it seems, I am the senior officer of the squadron, and must, I suppose, report to the council what has happened.”

“Take me, too, kinsman,” Matteo said.  “I know Francisco so well that I am quite sure that, of himself, he will never tell the facts of this affair, and will simply say that we broke out, avoiding all mention of his share in it, and how it was that under his orders we recaptured the other ships.”

“I think that a very good plan, Matteo; so do you come with us, and you shall tell me all about it, instead of my hearing it from Francis, and I will take care the council know the truth of the matter.”