“Sometimes our captains don’t do their duty,” he said.  “They put a lot of young patricians in command of the galleys, men that don’t know one end of a ship from the other, and then, of course, we get the worst of it.  But I maintain that, properly fought, a Venetian ship is always more than a match for a Genoese.”

“I think she generally is, captain, and I hope it will always prove so in the future.  You see, though I am English, I have lived long enough in Venice to feel like a Venetian.”

“I have never been to England,” the captain said, “though a good many Venetian ships go there every year.  They tell me it’s an island, like Venice, only a deal bigger than any we have got in the Mediterranean.  Those who have been there say the sea is mighty stormy, and that, sailing up from Spain, you get tremendous tempests sometimes, with the waves ever so much bigger than we have here, and longer and more regular, but not so trying to the ships as the short sharp gales of these seas.”

“I believe that is so, captain, though I don’t know anything about it myself.  It is some years since I came out, and our voyage was a very calm one.”

Three days of quiet sailing, and the Bonito rounded the headlands of the Morea, and shaped her course to Candia.  The voyage was a very pleasant one to Francis.  Each day the captain brought out the list of cargo, and instructed him in the prices of each description of goods, told him of the various descriptions of merchandise which they would be likely to purchase at the different ports at which they were to touch, and the prices which they would probably have to pay for them.  A certain time, too, was devoted each day to the examination of the charts of the various ports and islands, the captain pointing out the marks which were to be observed on entering and leaving the harbours, the best places for anchorage, and the points where shelter could be obtained should high winds come on.

After losing sight of the Morea the weather changed, clouds banked up rapidly in the southwest, and the captain ordered the great sails to be furled.

“We are going to have a serious gale,” he said to Francis, “which is unusual at this period of the year.  I have thought, for the last two days, we were going to have a change, but I hoped to have reached Candia before the gale burst upon us.  I fear that this will drive us off our course.”

By evening it was blowing hard, and the sea got up rapidly.  The ship speedily justified the remarks of the captain on her power of rolling, and the oars, at which the men had been labouring since the sails were furled, were laid in.

“It is impossible to keep our course,” the captain said, “and we must run up among the islands, and anchor under the lee of one of them.  I should recommend you to get into your bed as soon as possible.  You have not learned to keep your legs in a storm.  I see that lad of yours is very ill already, but as you show no signs of suffering thus far, you will probably escape.”