With a courage born of fear she jumped up and before she quite realized what she was doing she was tugging at the boat.

It was not very high up on the beach for the boatman had left it so that it would be easily shoved off.  Fortunately the tide was going out.  Lucia’s arms were strong and she pushed with a will.  The boat found the water and drifted silently away.

Her feet were wet, but she did not realize it.  She crept back to the beach and flattened herself against the wall.  The men returned.  They too kept in the shadow of the wall.  It was not until they were almost brushing against Lucia that the boatman noticed that his boat was gone.

“The Saints preserve us!” he exclaimed.  “It has been spirited away.  I knew I should be punished for doing such a black deed.”

“Spirits, nonsense!” the man spoke angrily.  “It is your own stupid carelessness, you did not pull it up on shore far enough.  You rattlebrain idiot, I’ve a good mind to kill you for this.  See, there is your boat out there—­empty—­go and get it.  Do you hear?”

“But how?” the boatman wrung his hands desperately.  “I do not know how to swim.  I will die.  Santa Lucia, Saint of sailormen, spare me,” he screamed as the man lifted his heavy cane to strike him.

“Don’t you dare strike that man!” Lucia exclaimed, “he did pull his boat up on shore, but I pushed it off.  I heard you this afternoon, and I knew you wanted to go away to that big ship out there, and perhaps sail to Austria.  I know what you are, you two-faced man.  You speak, you laugh, you scold in Italian, and all the time your black heart is Austrian.”

“You shall not go away from here.  I, Lucia Rudini, tell you, you shall not!”

“Santa Lucia!  A miracle!” The boatman trembled with fear, but the man was not so superstitious.  He caught Lucia’s arm and shook her roughly.

“You did it, you little fiend, well, you shall get what you deserve for your meddling.”  He motioned to the frightened boatman.  “Get me a rope, I’ll make a gag of my handkerchief; hurry man, if you are found you will be shot.”

“But I dare not, I dare not, she is the spirit of Santa Lucia.  She came when I called.  The Saints have mercy!”

With a growl of disgust the man turned from him and caught both of Lucia’s wrists in his firm clasp.  Then he lifted his cane.

“She must not tell until we are well away,” he said, and brought the cane down heavily.  It was his intention to stun Lucia, but he had miscalculated when he expected her to stand still and receive the blow.

She dodged to the right and began kicking and struggling.  The boatman wrung his hands and screamed for help.

It was not many minutes before the guard, attracted by the noise, came running towards them.  The man’s back was towards him, but Lucia saw him and stopped struggling.

The man raised his cane again but this time he stopped, because the muzzle of a gun was pressing him between the shoulder blades.