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The Lion of Saint Mark: A Story of Venice in the Fourteenth Century

by G. A. Henty · English · Gutenberg #17546 · 668,596 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Lion of Saint Mark: A Story of Venice in the Fourteenth Century

Author: G. A. Henty


        
Release date: January 18, 2006 [eBook #17546]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17546

Credits: E-text prepared by Martin Robb


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION OF SAINT MARK: A STORY OF VENICE IN THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY ***


E-text prepared by Martin Robb



THE LION OF ST. MARK:

A Story of Venice in the Fourteenth Century

by

G. A. Henty.







Preface.
Chapter 1:  Venice.
Chapter 2:  A Conspiracy.
Chapter 3:  On The Grand Canal.
Chapter 4:  Carried Off.
Chapter 5:  Finding A Clue.
Chapter 6:  The Hut On San Nicolo.
Chapter 7:  On Board A Trader.
Chapter 8:  An Attack By Pirates.
Chapter 9:  The Capture Of The Lido.
Chapter 10: Recaptured.
Chapter 11: The Battle Of Antium.
Chapter 12: In Mocenigo's Power.
Chapter 13: The Pirates' Raid.
Chapter 14: The End Of The Persecutor.
Chapter 15: The Battle Of Pola.
Chapter 16: The Recapture Of The Pluto.
Chapter 17: An Ungrateful Republic.
Chapter 18: The Release Of Pisani.
Chapter 19: The Siege Of Chioggia.
Chapter 20: The Triumph Of Venice.



Preface.


Of all the chapters of history, there are few more interesting or
wonderful than that which tells the story of the rise and progress of
Venice. Built upon a few sandy islands in a shallow lagoon, and
originally founded by fugitives from the mainland, Venice became one of
the greatest and most respected powers of Europe. She was mistress of
the sea; conquered and ruled over a considerable territory bordering on
the Adriatic; checked the rising power of the Turks; conquered
Constantinople; successfully defied all the attacks of her jealous
rivals to shake her power; and carried on a trade relatively as great
as that of England in the present day. I have laid my story in the time
not of the triumphs of Venice, but of her hardest struggle for
existence--when she defended herself successfully against the coalition
of Hungary, Padua, and Genoa--for never at any time were the virtues of
Venice, her steadfastness, her patriotism, and her willingness to make
all sacrifice for her independence, more brilliantly shown. The
historical portion of the story is drawn from Hazlitt's History of the
Republic of Venice, and with it I have woven the adventures of an
English boy, endowed with a full share of that energy and pluck which,
more than any other qualities, have made the British empire the
greatest the world has ever seen.

G. A. Henty.



Chapter 1: Venice.


"I suppose you never have such nights as these in that misty island of
yours, Francisco?"

"Yes, we have," the other said stoutly. "I have seen just as bright
nights on the Thames. I have stood down by Paul's Stairs and watched
the reflection of the moon on the water, and the lights of the houses
on the bridge, and the passing boats, just as we are doing now.

"But," he added honestly, "I must confess that we do not have such
still, bright nights very often, while with you they are the rule,
though sometimes even here a mist rises up and dims the water, just as
it does with us."

"But I have heard you say that the stars are not so bright as we have
them here."

"No, I do not think they are, Matteo. I do not remember now, but I do
know, when I first came here, I was struck with the brightness of the
stars, so I suppose there must have been a difference."

"But you like this better than England? You are glad that your father
came out here?"

Francis Hammond did not answer at once.

"I am glad he came out," he said after a pause, "because I have seen
many things I should never have seen if I had stayed at home, and I
have learned to speak your tongue. But I do not know that I like it
better than home. Things are different, you see. There was more fun at
home. My father had two or three apprentices, whom I used to play with
when the shop was closed, and there were often what you would call
tumults, but which were not serious. Sometimes there would be a fight
between the apprentices of one ward and another. A shout would be
raised of 'Clubs!' and all the 'prentices would catch up their sticks
and pour out of the shops, and then there would be a fight till the
city guard turned out and separated them. Then there used to be the
shooting at the butts, and the shows, and the Mayday revels, and all
sorts of things. The people were more merry than you are here, and much
more free. You see, the barons, who are the same to us that your great
families are to you, had no influence in the city. You are a nation of
traders, and so are we; but in London the traders have the power, and
are absolute masters inside their own walls, caring nothing for the
barons, and not much for the king. If anyone did wrong he got an open
and fair trial. There was no fear of secret accusations. Everyone
thought and said as he pleased. There was no Lion's Mouth, and no
Council of Ten."

"Hush! hush! Francisco," the other said, grasping his arm. "Do not say
a word against the council. There is no saying who may be listening."

And he looked nervously round to see if anyone was within earshot.

"There it is, you see," his companion said. "So long as we have a safe
conscience, in London we are frightened at nothing, whereas here no one
can say with certainty that he may not, before tomorrow morning, be
lying in the dungeons of St. Mark, without the slightest idea in the
world as to what his crime has been."

"There, there, Francisco," Matteo said uneasily. "Do talk about other
things. Your notions may do very well in England, but are not safe to
discuss here. Of course there are plenty here who would gladly see a
change in some matters, but one cannot have everything; and, after all,
when one has so much to be proud of, one need not grumble because
everything is not just as one would like."

"Yes, you have much to be proud of," Francis Hammond agreed. "It is
marvellous that the people of these scattered islets should be masters
of the sea, that their alliance should be coveted by every power in
Europe, that they should be the greatest trading community in the
world. If I were not English I should like to be Venetian."

The speakers were standing at the edge of the water in front of the
Palace of St. Mark. In the piazza behind them a throng of people were
walking to and fro, gossiping over the latest news from Constantinople,
the last rumour as to the doings of the hated rival of Venice, Genoa,
or the purport of the letter which had, as everyone knew, been brought
by the Bishop of Treviso from the pope to the seignory.

The moon was shining brightly overhead, and glittering in the waters of
the lagoon, which were broken into innumerable little wavelets by the
continual crossing and recrossing of the gondolas dotting its surface.
There was a constant arrival and departure of boats from the steps,
fifty yards to the right of the spot where the speakers were standing;
but where they had stationed themselves, about halfway between the
landing steps and the canal running down by the side of the ducal
palace, there were but few people about.

Francis Hammond was a lad between fifteen and sixteen years old. His
father was a merchant of London. He was a man of great enterprise and
energy, and had four years before determined to leave his junior
partner in charge of the business in London, and to come out himself
for a time to Venice, so as to buy the Eastern stuffs in which he dealt
at the headquarters of the trade, instead of paying such prices as the
agents of the Venetian traders might demand in London.

He had succeeded beyond his expectations. In Venice there were
constantly bargains to be purchased from ships returning laden with the
spoils of some captured Genoese merchantman, or taken in the sack of
some Eastern seaport. The prices, too, asked by the traders with the
towns of Syria or the Black Sea, were but a fraction of those charged
when these goods arrived in London. It was true that occasionally some
of his cargoes were lost on the homeward voyage, captured either by the
Genoese or the Moorish pirates; but even allowing for this, the profits
of the trade were excellent.

The English merchant occupied a good position in Venice. The promptness
of his payments, and the integrity of his dealings, made him generally
respected; and the fact that he was engaged in trade was no drawback to
his social position, in a city in which, of all others, trade was
considered honourable, and where members of even the most aristocratic
families were, with scarcely an exception, engaged in commerce. There
were many foreign merchants settled in Venice, for from the first the
republic had encouraged strangers to take up their residence there, and
had granted them several privileges and advantages.

Between Venice and England there had always been good feeling. Although
jealous of foreigners, England had granted the Venetians liberty to
trade in London, Southampton, and some other towns as far back as the
year 1304; and their relations had always been cordial, as there were
no grounds for jealousy or rivalry between the two peoples; whereas the
interference of France, Germany, Austria, and Hungary in the affairs of
Italy, had frequently caused uneasiness to Venice, and had on several
occasions embroiled her with one or other of the three last named
powers. France had as yet taken a very minor part in the continual wars
which were waged between the rival cities of Italy, and during the
Crusades there had been a close alliance between her and Venice, the
troops of the two nations fighting together at the siege of
Constantinople, and causing the temporary overthrow of the Greek Empire
of the East.

The rise of Venice had been rapid, and she owed her advancement to a
combination of circumstances. In the first place, her insular position
rendered her almost impervious to attack, and she had therefore no
occasion to keep on foot any army, and was able to throw all her
strength on to the sea, where Genoa was her only formidable rival. In
the second place, her mercantile spirit, and her extensive trade with
the East, brought in a steady influx of wealth, and her gold enabled
her to purchase allies, to maintain lengthy struggles without
faltering, and to emerge unscathed from wars which exhausted the
resources, and crippled the powers, of her rivals.

The third source of her success lay in the spirit of her population.
Like Rome in her early days, she was never cast down by reverses.
Misfortune only nerved her to further exertions, and after each defeat
she rose stronger than before. But the cause which, more than all,
contributed to give to Venice her ascendancy among the cities of Italy,
was her form of government. Democratic at first, as among all
communities, it had gradually assumed the character of a close
oligarchy, and although nominally ruled by a council containing a large
number of members, her destinies were actually in the hands of the
Doge, elected for life, and the Council of Ten, chosen from the great
body of the council. Thus she had from the first been free from those
factions which were the bane of Genoa and Florence. Some of the great
families had from time to time come more prominently to the front than
others, but none had attained predominant political power, and beyond a
few street tumults of slight importance, Venice had not suffered from
the popular tumults and uprisings which played so prominent a part in
the history of her rivals.

Thus, undisturbed by discord at home, Venice had been able to give all
her attention and all her care to her interests abroad, and her
affairs, conducted as they were by her wisest citizens, with a single
eye to the benefit of the state, had been distinguished by a rare
sagacity. Her object had been single and uniform, to protect her own
interests, and to prevent any one city on the mainland attaining such a
preponderance as would render her a dangerous neighbour. Hence she was
always ready to ally herself with the weaker against the stronger, and
to aid with money and men any state struggling against an ambitious
neighbour. Acting on this principle she by turns assisted Padua against
Verona, and Verona against Padua, or either of them when threatened by
the growing power of Milan, and at the end of a war she generally came
out with an increased territory, and added importance.

It is probable that no community was ever governed, for hundreds of
years, with such uniform wisdom and sagacity as was Venice; but the
advantage was not without drawbacks. The vigilance of the Council of
Ten in repressing plots, not unfrequently set on foot by the enemies of
the republic, resulted in the adoption of a hateful system of
espionage. The city was pervaded with spies, and even secret
denunciations were attended to, and the slightest expression of
discontent against the ruling authorities was severely punished. On the
other hand, comparatively slight attention was paid to private crime.
Assassinations were of frequent occurrence, and unless the victim
happened to be very powerfully connected, no notice was taken when a
man was found to be missing from his usual place, and his corpse was
discovered floating in the lagoon. Consequently crimes of this kind
were, in the great majority of cases, committed with impunity, and even
when traced, the authors, if possessed of powerful protectors, seldom
suffered any greater punishment than temporary banishment.

After standing for some time on the Piazzetta, the two lads turned and,
entering the square of Saint Mark, mingled with the crowd. It was a
motley one. Nobles in silks and satins jostled with fishermen of the
lagoons. Natives of all the coasts and islands which owned the sway of
Venice, Greeks from Constantinople, Tartar merchants from the Crimea,
Tyrians, and inhabitants of the islands of the Aegean, were present in
considerable numbers; while among the crowd, vendors of fruit and
flowers from the mainland, and of fresh water or cooling drinks, sold
their wares. The English lad's companion--Matteo Giustiniani--belonged
to one of the leading families of Venice, and was able to name to
Francis most of the nobles and persons of importance whom they passed.

"There is Pisani," he said. "Of course you know him. What a jolly,
good-tempered looking fellow he is! The sailors would do anything for
him, and they say he will have command of the next fleet that puts to
sea. I wish I was going with him. There is sure to be a fierce fight
when he comes across the Genoese. His father was one of our greatest
admirals.

"That noble just behind him is Fiofio Dandolo. What a grand family they
have been, what a number of great men they have given to the republic!
I should like to have seen the grand old Doge who stormed the walls of
Constantinople, and divided the Eastern empire among the crusading
barons. He was a hero indeed.

"No; I don't know who that young noble in the green velvet cap and plum
coloured dress is. O yes, I do, though; it is Ruggiero Mocenigo; he has
been away for the last two years at Constantinople; he was banished for
having killed Polo Morosini--he declared it was in fair fight, but no
one believed him. They had quarrelled a few days before over some
question of the precedence of their families, and Morosini was found
dead at the top of the steps close to the church of Saint Paolo. Some
people heard a cry and ran up just as Mocenigo leapt into his gondola,
but as it rowed off their shouts called the attention of one of the
city guard boats which happened to be passing, and it was stopped. As
his sword was still wet with blood, he could not deny that he was the
author of the deed, but, as I said, he declared it was in fair fight.
The Morosinis asserted that Polo's sword was undrawn, but the Mocenigo
family brought forward a man, who swore that he was one of the first to
arrive, and pick up the sword and place it in its scabbard to prevent
its being lost. No doubt he lied; but as Mocenigo's influence in the
council was greater than that of the Morosini, the story was accepted.
However, the public feeling was so strong that they could not do less
than sentence Ruggiero to two years' banishment. I suppose that has
just expired, and he has returned from Constantinople. He had a bad
reputation before this affair took place, but as his connections are so
powerful, I suppose he will be received as if nothing had happened.
There are plenty of others as bad as he is."

"It's a scandalous thing," Francis Hammond said indignantly, "that,
just because they have got powerful connections, men should be allowed
to do, almost with impunity, things for which an ordinary man would be
hung. There ought to be one law for the rich as well as the poor."

"So there is as far as the state is concerned," his companion replied.
"A noble who plots against the state is as certain of a place in the
lowest dungeons as a fisherman who has done the same; but in other
respects there is naturally some difference."

"Why naturally?" Francis retorted. "You belong to a powerful family,
Giustiniani, and my father is only a trader, but I don't see that
naturally you have any more right to get me stabbed in the back, than I
have to get you put out of the way."

"Naturally perhaps not," Matteo laughed; "but you see it has become a
second nature to us here in Venice. But seriously I admit that the
present state of things has grown to be a scandal, and that the doings
of some of our class ought to be put down with a strong hand."

"Well, I shall say goodnight now," the English boy said. "My father
doesn't like my being out after ten. He keeps up his English habits of
shutting up early, and has not learned to turn night into day as you do
here in Venice."

"The bell has just tolled the hour, Francis," his father said as he
entered.

"I didn't think it was quite so late, father; the Piazza is crowded. I
really do not think there is one person in Venice who goes to bed so
early as we do. It is so pleasant in the moonlight after the heat of
the day."

"That is true enough, Francis, but men are meant to sleep at night and
to work in the day. I think our fathers carried this too far when they
rang the curfew at eight; but ten is quite late enough for any honest
man to be about in the streets, and the hours of the early morning are
just as pleasant and far more healthy than those of the evening,
especially in a place like this where the mists rise from the water, to
say nothing of the chance of meeting a band of wild gallants on their
way homewards heated with wine, or of getting a stab in the back from
some midnight assassin. However, I do not blame Venice for enjoying
herself while she can. She will have more serious matters to attend to
soon."

"But she is at peace with every one at present, father. I thought when
she signed the treaty with Austria after a year's fighting, she was
going to have rest for a time."

"That was only the beginning of the trouble, Francis, and the council
knew it well; that was why they made such terms with Austria as they
did. They knew that Austria was only acting in accord with Hungary, and
Padua, and Genoa. The others were not ready to begin, so Austria came
on her own account to get what booty and plunder she could. But the
storm is gathering, and will burst before long. But do not let us stand
talking here any longer. It is high time for you to be in bed."

But though Francis retired to his room, it was more than an hour before
he got into bed. His window looked down upon one of the canals running
into the Grand Canal. Gondolas lighted by lanterns, or by torches held
by servitors, passed constantly backwards and forwards beneath his
window, and by leaning out he could see the passing lights of those on
the Grand Canal. Snatches of song and laughter came up to him, and
sometimes the note of a musical instrument. The air was soft and balmy,
and he felt no inclination for sleep.

Francis thought over what his father had said of the probability of
war, as he sat at his window, and wished that he were a couple of years
older and could take part in the struggle. The Venetian fleet had
performed such marvels of valour, that, in the days when military
service was almost the sole avenue to distinction and fortune, the
desire to take part in a naval expedition, which promised unusual
opportunities of gaining credit and renown, was the most natural thing
possible for a boy of spirit.

Francis was a well built lad of nearly sixteen. He had, until he left
London when about twelve years old, taken his full share in the rough
sports which formed so good a training for the youths of England, and
in which the citizens of London were in no way behind the rest of the
kingdom. He had practised shooting with a light bow and arrows, in
company with boys of his own age, in the fields outside the city walls;
had engaged in many a rough tussle with light clubs and quarterstaffs;
and his whole time--except for an hour or two daily which he had, as
the son of a well to do citizen, spent in learning to read and
write--had been occupied in games and exercises of one kind or other.

Since his arrival in Venice he had not altogether discontinued his
former habits. At his earnest solicitation, his father had permitted
him to attend the School of Arms, where the sons of patricians and
well-to-do merchants learned the use of sword and dagger, to hurl the
javelin, and wield the mace and battleaxe; and was, besides, a
frequenter of some of the schools where old soldiers gave private
lessons in arms to such as could afford it; and the skill and strength
of the English lad excited no slight envy among the young Venetian
nobles. Often, too, he would go out to one of the sandy islets, and
there setting up a mark, practise with the bow. His muscles too, had
gained strength and hardness by rowing. It was his constant habit of an
evening, when well away from the crowded canals in the gondola, with
Giuseppi, the son and assistant of his father's gondolier, to take an
oar, for he had thoroughly mastered the difficult accomplishment of
rowing well in a gondola; but he only did this when far out from the
city, or when the darkness of evening would prevent his figure from
being recognized by any of his acquaintances, for no Venetian of good
family would demean himself by handling an oar. Francis, however,
accustomed to row upon the Thames, could see no reason why he should
not do the same in a gondola, and in time he and his companion could
send the boat dancing over the water, at a rate which enabled them to
overtake and distance most pair-oared boats.

After breakfast next morning he went down to the steps, where Beppo and
Giuseppi, in their black cloth suits with red sashes round their
waists, were waiting with the gondola in which Mr. Hammond was going
out to Malamocco, to examine a cargo which had the day before arrived
from Azoph. Giuseppi jumped ashore.

"I have heard of just the gondola to suit you, Messer Francisco, and
you can get her a bargain."

"What is she like, Giuseppi?"

"She belongs to a man out at Lido. She was built for the race two years
ago, but her owner fell sick and was unable to start. He has not got
strong again, and wants to sell his boat, which is far too light for
ordinary work. They say she is almost like an eggshell, and you and I
will be able to send her along grandly. She cost four ducats, but he
will sell her for two."

"That is capital, Giuseppi. This gondola is all well enough for my
father, but she is very heavy. This evening we will row over to Lido
and look at her."

A few minutes later Mr. Hammond came down. Beppo and his son took off
their jackets, and in their snow white shirts and black trousers, set
off by the red scarf and a red ribbon round their broad hats, took
their places on the bow and stern. Mr. Hammond sat down on the cushions
in the middle of the boat, and with an easy, noiseless motion the
gondola glided away from the stairs. Francis, with a little sigh,
turned away and strolled off for a couple of hours' work with the
preceptor, with whom he had continued his studies since he came to
Venice.

This work consisted chiefly of learning various languages, for in those
days there was little else to learn. Latin was almost universally
spoken by educated men in southern Europe, and Greeks, Italians,
Spaniards, and Frenchmen were able to converse in this common medium.
French Francis understood, for it was the language in use in the court
and among the upper classes in England. Italian he picked up naturally
during his residence, and spoke it with the facility of a native. He
could now converse freely in Latin, and had some knowledge of German.
At the same school were many lads of good Venetian families, and it was
here that he had first made the acquaintance of Matteo Giustiniani, who
was now his most intimate friend.

Matteo, like all the young nobles of Venice, was anxious to excel in
military exercises, but he had none of the ardour for really hard work
which distinguished his friend. He admired the latter's strength and
activity, but could not bring himself to imitate him, in the exercises
by which that strength was attained, and had often remonstrated with
him upon his fondness for rowing.

"It is not seemly, Francisco, for a gentleman to be labouring like a
common gondolier. These men are paid for doing it; but what pleasure
there can be in standing up working that oar, till you are drenched
with perspiration, I cannot understand. I don't mind getting hot in the
School of Arms, because one cannot learn to use the sword and dagger
without it, but that's quite another thing from tugging at an oar."

"But I like it, Matteo; and see how strong it has made my muscles, not
of the arm only, but the leg and back. You often say you envy me my
strength, but you might be just as strong if you chose to work as I do.
Besides, it is delightful, when you are accustomed to it, to feel the
gondola flying away under your stroke."

"I prefer feeling it fly away under some one else's stroke, Francisco.
That is pleasant enough, I grant; but the very thought of working as
you do throws me into a perspiration. I should like to be as strong as
you are, but to work as a gondolier is too high a price to pay for it."

That evening, Francis crossed the lagoon in the gondola with Giuseppi,
to inspect the boat he had heard of. It was just what he wanted. In
appearance it differed in no way from an ordinary gondola, but it was a
mere shell. The timbers and planking were extremely light, and the
weight of the boat was little more than a third of that of other craft.
She had been built like a working gondola, instead of in the form of
those mostly used for racing, because her owner had intended, after the
race was over, to plank her inside and strengthen her for everyday
work. But the race had never come off, and the boat lay just as she had
come from the hands of her builder, except that she had been painted
black, like other gondolas, to prevent her planks from opening. When
her owner had determined to part with her he had given her a fresh coat
of paint, and had put her in the water, that her seams might close up.

"I don't like parting with her," the young fisherman to whom she
belonged said. "I tried her once or twice, and she went like the wind,
but I got fever in my bones and I am unlikely to race again, and the
times are hard, and I must part with her."

Francis and Giuseppi gave her a trial, and were delighted with the
speed and ease with which she flew through the water. On their return
Francis at once paid the price asked for her. His father made him a
handsome allowance, in order that he might be able to mix, without
discomfort, with the lads of good family whom he met at his preceptor's
and at the schools of arms. But Francis did not care for strolling in
the Piazza, or sitting for hours sipping liquors. Still less did he
care for dress or finery. Consequently he had always plenty of money to
indulge in his own special fancies.

As soon as the bargain was completed, Giuseppi took his place in the
old gondola, while Francis took the oar in his new acquisition, and
found to his satisfaction that with scarcely an effort he could dart
ahead of his companion and leave him far behind. By nightfall the two
gondolas were fastened, side by side, behind the gaily painted posts
which, in almost all Venetian houses, are driven into the canal close
to the steps, and behind which the gondolas belonging to the house lie
safe from injury by passing craft.

"I have bought another gondola, father," Francis said the next morning.
"She is a very light, fast craft, and I got her cheap."

"I don't see what you wanted another gondola for, Francis. I do not use
mine very much, and you are always welcome to take it when I do not
want it."

"Yes, father, but you often use it in the evening, and that is just the
time when one wants to go out. You very often only take Beppo with you,
when you do not go on business, and I often want a boat that I could
take with Giuseppi. Besides, your gondola is a very solid one, and I
like passing people."

"Young people always want to go fast," Mr. Hammond said. "Why, I can't
make out. However, Francis, I am not sorry that you have got a boat of
your own, for it has happened several times lately, that when in the
evening I have gone down intending to row round to the Piazzetta, I
have found the boat gone, and have had to walk. Now I shall be able to
rely on finding Beppo asleep in the boat at the steps. In future, since
you have a boat of your own, I shall not be so particular as to your
being in at ten. I do not so much mind your being out on the water,
only you must promise me that you will not be in the streets after that
hour. There are frequent broils as the evening gets on, not to mention
the danger of cutthroats in unfrequented lanes; but if you will promise
me that you will never be about the streets after half past nine, I
will give you leave to stay out on the water till a later hour; but
when you come in late be careful always to close and bar the door, and
do not make more noise than you can help in coming up to your room."

Francis was much pleased with this concession, for the obligation to
return at ten o'clock, just when the temperature was most delightful
and the Grand Canal at its gayest, had been very irksome to him. As to
the prohibition against being in the streets of Venice after half past
nine, he felt that no hardship whatever, as he found no amusement in
strolling in the crowded Piazza.



Chapter 2: A Conspiracy.


"Who are those ladies, Matteo?" Francis asked his friend one evening,
as the latter, who was sitting with him in his gondola, while Giuseppi
rowed them along the Grand Canal, half rose and saluted two girls in a
passing gondola.

"They are distant cousins of mine, Maria and Giulia Polani. They only
returned a short time since from Corfu. Their father is one of the
richest merchants of our city. He has for the last three years been
living in Corfu, which is the headquarters of his trade. The family is
an old one, and has given doges to Venice. They are two of our richest
heiresses, for they have no brothers. Their mother died soon after the
birth of Giulia."

"They both look very young," Francis said.

"Maria is about sixteen, her sister two years younger. There will be no
lack of suitors for their hands, for although the family is not
politically powerful, as it used to be, their wealth would cause them
to be gladly received in our very first families."

"Who was the middle-aged lady sitting between them?"

"She is only their duenna," Matteo said carelessly. "She has been with
them since they were children, and their father places great confidence
in her. And he had need to, for Maria will ere long be receiving
bouquets and perfumed notes from many a young gallant."

"I can quite fancy that," Francis said, "for she is very pretty as well
as very rich, and, as far as I have observed, the two things do not go
very often together. However, no doubt by this time her father has
pretty well arranged in his mind whom she is to marry."

"I expect so," agreed Matteo.

"That is the worst of being born of good family. You have got to marry
some one of your father's choice, not your own, and that choice is
determined simply by the desire to add to the political influence of
the family, to strengthen distant ties, or to obtain powerful
connections. I suppose it is the same everywhere, Matteo, but I do
think that a man or woman ought to have some voice in a matter of such
importance to them."

"I think so, too, at the present time," Matteo laughed; "but I don't
suppose that I shall be of that opinion when I have a family of sons
and daughters to marry.

"This gondola of yours must be a fast one indeed, Francisco, for with
only one rower she keeps up with almost all the pair oared boats, and
your boy is not exerting himself to the utmost, either."

"She can fly along, I can tell you, Matteo. You shall come out in her
some evening when Giuseppi and I both take oars. I have had her ten
days now, and we have not come across anything that can hold her for a
moment."

"It is always useful," Matteo said, "to have a fast boat. It is
invaluable in case you have been getting into a scrape, and have one of
the boats of the city watch in chase of you."

"I hope I sha'n't want it for any purpose of that sort," Francis
answered, laughing. "I do not think I am likely to give cause to the
city watch to chase me."

"I don't think you are, Francisco, but there is never any saying."

"At any rate it is always useful to be able to go fast if necessary,
and if we did want to get away, I do not think there are many
pair-oared gondolas afloat that would overtake us, though a good four
oar might do so. Giuseppi and I are so accustomed to each other's
stroke now, that though in a heavy boat we might not be a match for two
men, in a light craft like this, where weight does not count for so
much, we would not mind entering her for a race against the two best
gondoliers on the canals, in an ordinary boat."

A few evenings later, Francis was returning homewards at about half
past ten, when, in passing along a quiet canal, the boat was hailed
from the shore.

"Shall we take him, Messer Francisco?" Giuseppi asked in a low voice;
for more than once they had late in the evening taken a fare.

Francis rowed, like Giuseppi, in his shirt, and in the darkness they
were often taken for a pair-oared gondola on the lookout for a fare.
Francis had sometimes accepted the offer, because it was an amusement
to see where the passenger wished to go--to guess whether he was a
lover hastening to keep an appointment, a gambler on a visit to some
quiet locality, where high play went on unknown to the authorities, or
simply one who had by some error missed his own gondola, and was
anxious to return home. It made no difference to him which way he
rowed. It was always possible that some adventure was to be met with,
and the fare paid was a not unwelcome addition to Giuseppi's funds.

"Yes, we may as well take him," he replied to Giuseppi's question.

"You are in no hurry to get to bed, I suppose?" the man who had hailed
them said as the boat drew up against the wall of the canal.

"It does not make much difference to us, if we are well paid, to keep
awake," Giuseppi said.

Upon such occasions he was always the spokesman.

"You know San Nicolo?"

"Yes, I know it," Giuseppi said; "but it is a long row--six miles, if
it's a foot."

"You will have to wait there for an hour or two, but I will give you
half a ducat for your night's work."

"What do you say, partner?" Giuseppi asked Francis.

"We may as well go," the lad replied after a moment's pause.

The row was certainly a long one, but the night was delightful, and the
half ducat was a prize for Giuseppi; but what influenced Francis
principally in accepting was curiosity. San Nicolo was a little sandy
islet lying quite on the outside of the group of islands. It was
inhabited only by a few fishermen; and Francis wondered that a man,
evidently by his voice and manner of address belonging to the upper
class, should want to go to such a place as this at this hour of the
night. Certainly no ordinary motives could actuate him.

As the stranger took his place in the boat, Francis saw by the light of
the stars that he was masked; but there was nothing very unusual in
this, as masks were not unfrequently worn at night by young gallants,
when engaged on any frolic in which they wished their identity to be
unrecognized. Still it added to the interest of the trip; and dipping
his oar in the water he set out at a slow, steady stroke well within
his power. He adopted this partly in view of the length of the row
before them, partly because the idea struck him that it might be as
well that their passenger should not suspect that the boat was other
than an ordinary gondola. The passenger, however, was well satisfied
with the speed, for they passed two or three other gondolas before
issuing from the narrow canals, and starting across the broad stretch
of the lagoon.

Not a word was spoken until the gondola neared its destination. Then
the passenger said:

"You row well. If you like the job I may employ you again."

"We are always ready to earn money," Francis said, speaking in a gruff
voice quite unlike his own.

"Very well. I will let you know, as we return, what night I shall want
you again. I suppose you can keep your mouths shut on occasion, and can
go without gossiping to your fellows as to any job on which you are
employed?"

"We can do that," Francis said. "It's no matter to us where our
customers want to go, if they are willing to pay for it; and as to
gossiping, there is a saying, 'A silver gag is the best for keeping the
mouth closed.'"

A few minutes later the bow of the gondola ran up on the sandy shore of
San Nicolo. The stranger made his way forward and leapt out, and with
the words, "It may be two hours before I am back," walked rapidly away.

"Why, Messer Francisco," Giuseppi said when their passenger was well
out of hearing, "what on earth possessed you to accept a fare to such a
place as this? Of course, for myself, I am glad enough to earn half a
ducat, which will buy me a new jacket with silver buttons for the next
festa; but to make such a journey as this was too much, and it will be
very late before we are back. If the padrone knew it he would be very
angry."

"I didn't do it to enable you to earn half a ducat, Giuseppi, although
I am glad enough you should do so; but I did it because it seemed to
promise the chance of an adventure. There must be something in this. A
noble--for I have no doubt he is one--would never be coming out to San
Nicolo, at this time of night, without some very strong motive. There
can be no rich heiress whom he might want to carry off living here, so
that can't be what he has come for. I think there must be some secret
meeting, for as we came across the lagoon I saw one or two beats in the
distance heading in this direction. Anyhow, I mean to try and find out
what it all means."

"You had better not, sir," Giuseppi said earnestly. "If there is any
plot on foot we had best not get mixed up in it. No one is too high or
too low to escape the vengeance of the council, if found plotting
against the state; and before now gondolas, staved in and empty, have
been found drifting on the lagoons, and the men who rowed them have
never been heard of again. Once in the dungeons of Saint Mark it would
be of no use to plead that you had entered into the affair simply for
the amusement. The fact that you were not a regular boatman would make
the matter all the worse, and the maxim that 'dead men tell no tales'
is largely acted upon in Venice.

"I think, sir, the best plan will be to row straight back, and leave
our fare to find his way home as best he may."

"I mean to find something out about it if I can, Giuseppi. A state
secret may be dangerous, but it may be valuable. Anyhow, there can be
no great risk in it. On the water I think we can show our heels to
anyone who chases us; and once in Venice, we are absolutely safe, for
no one would suspect a gondola of Mr. Hammond, the English merchant, of
having any connection with a hired craft with its two gondoliers."

"That is true enough, sir; but I don't like it for all that. However,
if you have made up your mind to it, there is nothing more to be said."

"Very well. You stay here, and I will go and look round. You had better
get the gondola afloat, and be ready to start at the instant, so that,
if I should have to run for it, I can jump on board and be off in a
moment."

Francis made his way quietly up to the little group of huts inhabited
by the fishermen, but in none of them could he see any signs of
life--no lights were visible, nor could he hear the murmur of voices.
There were, he knew, other buildings scattered about on the island; but
he had only the light of the stars to guide him, and, not knowing
anything of the exact position of the houses, he thought it better to
return to the boat.

"I can find no signs of them, Giuseppi."

"All the better, Messer Francisco. There are some sorts of game, which
it is well for the safety of the hunter not to discover. I was very
glad, I can tell you, when I heard your whistle, and made out your
figure returning at a walk. Now you are back I will take an hour's nap,
and I should advise you to do the same."

But Francis had no thought of sleep, and sat down at his end of the
gondola, wondering over the adventure, and considering whether or not
it would be worth while to follow it up another night. That it was a
plot of some sort he had little doubt. There were always in Venice two
parties, equally anxious perhaps for the prosperity of the republic,
but differing widely as to the means by which that prosperity would be
best achieved, and as to the alliances which would, in the long run,
prove most beneficial to her. There were also needy and desperate men
ready enough to take bribes from any who might offer them, and to
intrigue in the interest of Padua or Ferrara, Verona, Milan, or
Genoa--whichever might for the time be their paymasters.

Francis was English, but he had been long enough in Venice to feel a
pride in the island city, and to be almost as keenly interested in her
fortunes as were his companions and friends; and a certain sense of
duty, mingled with his natural love of adventure, decided him to follow
up the chance which had befallen him, and to endeavour to ascertain the
nature of the plot which was, he had little doubt, being hatched at San
Nicolo.

In a very few minutes the regular breathing of Giuseppi, who had curled
himself up in the bottom of the boat, showed that he had gone to sleep;
and he did not stir until, an hour and a half after the return of
Francis, the latter heard the fall of footsteps approaching the
gondola.

"Wake up, Giuseppi, here comes our fare!"

Francis stood up and stretched himself as the stranger came alongside,
as if he too had been fast asleep.

"Take me back to the spot where I hailed you," the fare said briefly,
as he stepped into the boat and threw himself back on the cushions, and
without a word the lads dipped their oars in the water and the gondola
glided away towards Venice.

Just as they reached the mouth of the Grand Canal, and were about to
turn into it, a six-oared gondola shot out from under the point, and a
voice called out:

"Stop, in the name of the republic, and give an account of yourselves!"

"Row on," the passenger exclaimed, starting up. "Ten ducats if you can
set me safely on shore."

Had the lads been real gondoliers, it is probable that even this
tempting offer would not have induced them to disregard the order from
the galley, for they would have run no slight risk in so doing. But
Francis had no desire to be caught, and perhaps imprisoned for a
considerable time, until he was able to convince the council that his
share of the night's work had been merely the result of a boyish freak.
With two strokes of his oar, therefore, he swept the boat's head round,
thereby throwing their pursuers directly astern of them; then he and
Giuseppi threw their whole weight into the stroke, and the boat danced
over the water at a pace very different to that at which it had
hitherto proceeded.

But, fast as they went, the galley travelled somewhat faster, the
rowers doing their utmost in obedience to the angry orders of their
officer; and had the race been continued on a broad stretch of water,
it would sooner or later have overhauled the gondola. But Francis was
perfectly aware of this, and edged the boat away towards the end of the
Piazzetta, and then, shooting her head round, dashed at full speed
along the canal by the side of the ducal palace, the galley being at
the time some forty yards behind.

"The first to the right," Francis said, and with scarce a pause in
their speed, they turned off at right angles up the first canal they
came to. Again and again they turned and twisted, regardless of the
direction in which the canals took them, their only object being to
gain on their pursuers, who lost considerably at each turn, being
obliged always to check their speed, before arriving at each angle, to
allow the boat to go round.

In ten minutes she was far behind, and they then abated their speed,
and turned the boat's head in the direction in which they wished to go.

"By San Paolo," the stranger said, "that was well done! You are masters
of your craft, and sent your boat along at a pace which must have
astonished those fellows in that lumbering galley. I had no reason to
fear them, but I do not care to be interfered with and questioned by
these jacks-in-office of the republic."

A few minutes later they reached the place where he embarked, and as he
got out he handed the money he had promised to Giuseppi.

"Next Thursday night," he said, "at half past ten."

"It seems a dangerous sort of service, signor," Giuseppi said
hesitatingly. "It is no joke to disobey the officers of the republic,
and next time we may not be so fortunate."

"It's worth taking a little risk when you are well paid," the other
said, turning away, "and it is not likely we shall run against one of
the state galleys another night."

"Home, now, Giuseppi," Francis said, "we can talk about it tomorrow.
It's the best night's work you ever did in your life, and as I have had
a grand excitement we are both contented."

During the next few days Francis debated seriously with himself whether
to follow up the adventure; but he finally decided on doing so, feeling
convinced that there could be no real danger, even were the boat seized
by one of the state galleys; as his story, that he had gone into the
matter simply to discover whether any plot was intended against the
republic, would finally be believed, as it would be beyond the bounds
of probability that a lad of his age could himself have been concerned
in such a conspiracy. As to Giuseppi, he offered no remonstrance when
Francis told him that he intended to go out to San Nicolo on the
following Thursday, for the ten ducats he had received were a sum
larger than he could have saved in a couple of years' steady work, and
were indeed quite a fortune in his eyes. Another such a sum, and he
would be able, when the time came, to buy a gondola of his own, to
marry, and set up housekeeping in grand style. As for the danger, if
Francis was willing to run it he could do the same; for after all, a
few months' imprisonment was the worst that could befall him for his
share in the business.

Before the day came Matteo Giustiniani told Francis a piece of news
which interested him.

"You remember my cousin Maria Polani, whom we met the other evening on
the Grand Canal?"

"Of course I do, Matteo. What of her?"

"Well, what do you think? Ruggiero Mocenigo, whom I pointed out to you
on the Piazza--the man who had been banished for two years--has asked
for her hand in marriage."

"He is not going to have it, I hope," Francis said indignantly. "It
would be a shame, indeed, to give her to such a man as that."

"That is just what her father thought, Francisco, and he refused
Ruggiero pretty curtly, and told him, I believe, he would rather see
her in her grave than married to him; and I hear there was a regular
scene, and Ruggiero went away swearing Polani should regret his
refusal."

"I suppose your cousin does not care much about his threats," Francis
said.

"I don't suppose he cares much about them," Matteo replied; "but
Ruggiero is very powerfully connected, and may do him damage, not to
speak of the chance of his hiring a bravo to stab him on the first
opportunity. I know my father advised Polani to be very cautious where
he went at night for a time. This fellow, Ruggiero, is a dangerous
enemy. If he were to get Polani stabbed, it would be next to impossible
to prove that it was his doing, however strong the suspicion might be;
for mere suspicion goes for nothing against a man with his influence
and connections. He has two near relations on the council, and if he
were to burn down Polani's mansion, and to carry off Maria, the chances
are against his being punished, if he did but keep out of the way for a
few months."

As in England powerful barons were in the habit of waging private wars
with each other, and the carrying off a bride by force was no very rare
event, this state of things did not appear, to Francis, as outrageous
as it would do to an English lad of the present day, but he shook his
head.

"Of course one understands, Matteo, that everywhere powerful nobles do
things which would be regarded as crimes if done by others; but,
elsewhere, people can fortify their houses, and call out and arm their
retainers, and stand on their guard. But that here, in a city like
this, private feuds should be carried on, and men stabbed when
unconscious of danger, seems to me detestable."

"Of course it isn't right," Matteo said carelessly, "but I don't know
how you are going to put a stop to it; and after all, our quarrels here
only involve a life or two, while in other countries nobles go to war
with each other, and hundreds of lives, of people who have nothing to
do with the quarrel, may be sacrificed."

This was a light in which Francis had hardly looked upon the matter
before, and he was obliged to own that even private assassination,
detestable as it was, yet caused much less suffering than feudal war.
Still, he was not disposed entirely to give in to his friend's opinion.

"That is true, Matteo; but at the same time, in a war it is fair
fighting, while a stab in the back is a cowardly business."

"It is not always fair fighting," Matteo replied. "You hear of castles
being surprised, and the people massacred without a chance of
resistance; of villages being burned, and the people butchered
unresistingly. I don't think there is so much more fairness one way
than the other. Polani knows he will have to be careful, and if he
likes he can hire bravos to put Ruggiero out of the way, just as
Ruggiero can do to remove him. There's a good deal to be said for both
sides of the question."

Francis felt this was so, and that although he had an abhorrence of the
Venetian method of settling quarrels, he saw that as far as the public
were concerned, it was really preferable to the feudal method, of both
parties calling out their retainers and going to war with each other,
especially as assassinations played no inconsiderable part in the
feudal struggles of the time.

On the Thursday night the gondola was in waiting at the agreed spot.
Francis had thought it probable that the stranger might this time ask
some questions as to where they lived and their usual place of plying
for hire, and would endeavour to find out as much as he could about
them, as they could not but suspect that he was engaged in some very
unusual enterprise. He had therefore warned Giuseppi to be very careful
in his replies. He knew that it was not necessary to say more, for
Giuseppi had plenty of shrewdness, and would, he was sure, invent some
plausible story without the least difficulty, possessing, as he did,
plenty of the easy mendacity so general among the lower classes of the
races inhabiting countries bordering on the Mediterranean. Their fare
came down to the gondola a few minutes after the clock had tolled the
half hour.

"I see you are punctual," he said, "which is more than most of you men
are."

Francis was rowing the bow oar, and therefore stood with his back to
the passenger, and was not likely to be addressed by him, as he would
naturally turn to Giuseppi, who stood close behind him. As Francis had
expected, as soon as they were out on the lagoon the passenger turned
to his companion and began to question him.

"I cannot see your faces," he said; "but by your figures you are both
young, are you not?"

"I am but twenty-two," Giuseppi said, "and my brother is a year
younger."

"And what are your names?"

"Giovanni and Beppo Morani."

"And is this boat your own?"

"It is, signor. Our father died three years ago, leaving us his boat."

"And where do you usually ply?"

"Anywhere, signor, just as the fancy seizes us. Sometimes one place is
good, sometimes another."

"And where do you live?"

"We don't live anywhere, signor. When night comes, and business is
over, we tie up the boat to a post, wrap ourselves up, and go to sleep
at the bottom. It costs nothing, and we are just as comfortable there
as we should be on straw in a room."

"Then you must be saving money."

"Yes; we are laying money by. Some day, I suppose, we shall marry, and
our wives must have homes. Besides, sometimes we are lazy and don't
work. One must have some pleasure, you know."

"Would you like to enter service?"

"No, signor. We prefer being our own masters; to take a fare or leave
it as we please."

"Your boat is a very fast one. You went at a tremendous rate when the
galley was after us the other night."

"The boat is like others," Giuseppi said carelessly; "but most men can
row fast when the alternative is ten ducats one way or a prison the
other."

"Then there would be no place where I could always find you in the
daytime if I wanted you?"

"No, signor; there would be no saying where we might be. We have
sometimes regular customers, and it would not pay us to disappoint
them, even if you paid us five times the ordinary fare. But we could
always meet you at night anywhere, when you choose to appoint."

"But how can I appoint," the passenger said irritably, "if I don't know
where to find you?"

Giuseppi was silent for a stroke or two.

"If your excellency would write in figures, half past ten or eleven, or
whatever time we should meet you, just at the base of the column of the
palace--the corner one on the Piazzetta--we should be sure to be there
sometime or other during the day, and would look for it."

"You can read and write, then?" the passenger asked.

"I cannot do that, signor," Giuseppi said, "but I can make out figures.
That is necessary to us, as how else could we keep time with our
customers? We can read the sundials, as everyone else can; but as to
reading and writing, that is not for poor lads like us."

The stranger was satisfied. Certainly every one could read the
sundials; and the gondoliers would, as they said, understand his
figures if he wrote them.

"Very well," he said. "It is probable I shall generally know, each time
I discharge you, when I shall want you again; but should there be any
change, I will make the figures on the base of the column at the corner
of the Piazzetta, and that will mean the hour at which you are to meet
me that night at the usual place."

Nothing more was said, until the gondola arrived at the same spot at
which it had landed the passenger on the previous occasion.

"I shall be back in about the same time as before," the fare said when
he alighted.

As he strode away into the darkness, Francis followed him. He was
shoeless, for at that time the lower class seldom wore any protection
to the feet, unless when going a journey over rough ground. Among the
gondoliers shoes were unknown; and Francis himself generally took his
off, for coolness and comfort, when out for the evening in his boat.

He kept some distance behind the man he was following, for as there
were no hedges or inclosures, he could make out his figure against the
sky at a considerable distance. As Francis had expected, he did not
make towards the village, but kept along the island at a short distance
from the edge of the water.

Presently Francis heard the dip of oars, and a gondola ran up on the
sands halfway between himself and the man he was following. He threw
himself down on the ground. Two men alighted, and went in the same
direction as the one who had gone ahead.

Francis made a detour, so as to avoid being noticed by the gondoliers,
and then again followed. After keeping more than a quarter of a mile
near the water, the two figures ahead struck inshore. Francis followed
them, and in a few minutes they stopped at a black mass, rising above
the sand. He heard them knock, and then a low murmur, as if they were
answering some question from within. Then they entered, and a door
closed.

He moved up to the building. It was a hut of some size, but had a
deserted appearance. It stood between two ridges of low sand hills, and
the sand had drifted till it was halfway up the walls. There was no
garden or inclosure round it, and any passerby would have concluded
that it was uninhabited. The shutters were closed, and no gleam of
light showed from within.

After stepping carefully round it, Francis took his post round the
angle close to the door, and waited. Presently he heard footsteps
approaching--three knocks were given on the door, and a voice within
asked, "Who is there?"

The reply was, "One who is in distress."

The question came, "What ails you?"

And the answer, "All is wrong within."

Then there was a sound of bars being withdrawn, and the door opened and
closed again.

There were four other arrivals. The same questions were asked and
answered each time. Then some minutes elapsed without any fresh comers,
and Francis thought that the number was probably complete. He lay down
on the sand, and with his dagger began to make a hole through the wood,
which was old and rotten, and gave him no difficulty in piercing it.

He applied his eye to the orifice, and saw that there were some twelve
men seated round a table. Of those facing him he knew three or four by
sight; all were men of good family. Two of them belonged to the
council, but not to the inner Council of Ten. One, sitting at the top
of the table, was speaking; but although Francis applied his ear to the
hole he had made, he could hear but a confused murmur, and could not
catch the words. He now rose cautiously, scooped up the sand so as to
cover the hole in the wall, and swept a little down over the spot where
he had been lying, although he had no doubt that the breeze, which
would spring up before morning, would soon drift the light shifting
sand over it, and obliterate the mark of his recumbent figure. Then he
went round to the other side of the hut and bored another hole, so as
to obtain a view of the faces of those whose backs had before been
towards him.

One of these was Ruggiero Mocenigo. Another was a stranger to Francis,
and some difference in the fashion of his garments indicated that he
was not a Venetian, but, Francis thought, a Hungarian. The other three
were not nobles. One of them Francis recognized, as being a man of much
influence among the fishermen and sailors. The other two were unknown
to him.

As upwards of an hour had been spent in making the two holes and taking
observations, Francis thought it better now to make his way back to his
boat, especially as it was evident that he would gain nothing by
remaining longer. Therefore, after taking the same precautions as
before, to conceal all signs of his presence, he made his way across
the sands back to his gondola.

"Heaven be praised, you are back again!" Giuseppi said, when he heard
his low whistle, as he came down to the boat. "I have been in a fever
ever since I lost sight of you. Have you succeeded?"

"I have found out that there is certainly a plot of some sort being got
up, and I know some of those concerned in it, but I could hear nothing
that went on. Still, I have succeeded better than I expected, and I am
well satisfied with the night's work."

"I hope you won't come again, Messer Francisco. In the first place, you
may not always have the fortune to get away unseen. In the next place,
it is a dangerous matter to have to do with conspiracies, whichever
side you are on. The way to live long in Venice is to make no enemies."

"Yes, I know that, Giuseppi, and I haven't decided yet what to do in
the matter."

A quarter of an hour later, their fare returned to the boat. This time
they took a long detour, and, entering Venice by one of the many
canals, reached the landing place without adventure. The stranger
handed Giuseppi a ducat.

"I do not know when I shall want you again; but I will mark the hour,
as agreed, on the pillar. Do not fail to go there every afternoon; and
even if you don't see it, you might as well come round here at half
past ten of a night. I may want you suddenly."

Before going to sleep that night, Francis thought the matter over
seriously, and finally concluded that he would have no more to do with
it. No doubt, by crossing over to San Nicolo in the daytime, he might
be able to loosen a plank at the back of the hut, or to cut so large an
opening that he could hear, as well as see, what was going on within;
but supposing he discovered that a plot was on hand in favour of the
enemies of Venice, such as Padua or Hungary, what was he to do next? At
the best, if he denounced it, and the officers of the republic
surrounded the hut when the conspirators were gathered there, arrested
them, and found upon them, or in their houses, proofs sufficient to
condemn them, his own position would not be enviable. He would gain,
indeed, the gratitude of the republic; but as for rewards, he had no
need of them. On the other hand, he would draw upon himself the enmity
of some eight or ten important families, and all their connections and
followers, and his life would be placed in imminent danger. They would
be all the more bitter against him, inasmuch as the discovery would not
have been made by accident, but by an act of deliberate prying into
matters which concerned him in no way, he not being a citizen of the
republic.

So far his action in the matter had been a mere boyish freak; and now
that he saw it was likely to become an affair of grave importance,
involving the lives of many persons, he determined to have nothing
further to do with it.



Chapter 3: On The Grand Canal.


Giuseppi, next morning, heard the announcement of the determination of
Francis, to interfere no further in the matter of the conspiracy at San
Nicolo, with immense satisfaction. For the last few nights he had
scarcely slept, and whenever he dozed off, dreamed either of being
tortured in dungeons, or of being murdered in his gondola; and no money
could make up for the constant terrors which assailed him. In his
waking moments he was more anxious for his employer than for himself,
for it was upon him that the vengeance of the conspirators would fall,
rather than upon a young gondolier, who was only obeying the orders of
his master.

It was, then, with unbounded relief that he heard Francis had decided
to go no more out to San Nicolo.

During the next few days Francis went more frequently than usual to the
Piazza of Saint Mark, and had no difficulty in recognizing there the
various persons he had seen in the hut, and in ascertaining their names
and families. One of the citizens he had failed to recognize was a
large contractor in the salt works on the mainland. The other was the
largest importer of beasts for the supply of meat to the markets of the
city.

Francis was well satisfied with the knowledge he had gained. It might
never be of any use to him, but it might, on the other hand, be of
importance when least expected.

As a matter of precaution he drew up an exact account of the
proceedings of the two nights on the lagoons, giving an account of the
meeting, and the names of the persons present, and placed it in a
drawer in his room. He told Giuseppi what he had done.

"I do not think there is the least chance of our ever being recognized,
Giuseppi. There was not enough light for the man to have made out our
features. Still there is nothing like taking precautions, and if--I
don't think it is likely, mind--but if anything should ever happen to
me--if I should be missing, for example, and not return by the
following morning--you take that paper out of my drawer and drop it
into the Lion's Mouth. Then, if you are questioned, tell the whole
story."

"But they will never believe me, Messer Francisco," Giuseppi said in
alarm.

"They will believe you, because it will be a confirmation of my story;
but I don't think that there is the least chance of our ever hearing
anything further about it."

"Why not denounce them at once without putting your name to it,"
Giuseppi said. "Then they could pounce upon them over there, and find
out all about it for themselves?"

"I have thought about it, Giuseppi, but there is something treacherous
in secret denunciations. These men have done me no harm, and as a
foreigner their political schemes do not greatly concern me. I should
not like to think I had sent twelve men to the dungeons and perhaps to
death."

"I think it's a pity you ever went there at all, Messer Francisco."

"Well, perhaps it is, Giuseppi; but I never thought it would turn out a
serious affair like this. However, I do wish I hadn't gone now; not
that I think it really matters, or that we shall ever hear anything
more of it. We may, perhaps, some day see the result of this
conspiracy, that is, if its objects are such as I guess them to be;
namely, to form a party opposed to war with Hungary, Padua, or Genoa."

For some days after this Francis abstained from late excursions in the
gondola. It was improbable that he or Giuseppi would be recognized did
their late passenger meet them. Still, it was possible that they might
be so; and when he went out he sat quietly among the cushions while
Giuseppi rowed, as it would be a pair-oared gondola the stranger would
be looking for. He was sure that the conspirator would feel uneasy when
the boat did not come to the rendezvous, especially when they found
that, on three successive days, figures were marked as had been
arranged on the column at the corner of the Piazzetta.

Giuseppi learned indeed, a week later, that inquiries had been made
among the gondoliers for a boat rowed by two brothers, Giovanni and
Beppo; and the inquirer, who was dressed as a retainer of a noble
family, had offered five ducats reward for information concerning it.
No such names, however, were down upon the register of gondoliers
licensed to ply for hire. Giuseppi learned that the search had been
conducted quietly but vigorously, and that several young gondoliers who
rowed together had been seen and questioned.

The general opinion, among the boatmen, was that some lady must have
been carried off, and that her friends were seeking for a clue as to
the spot to which she had been taken.

One evening Francis had been strolling on the Piazza with Matteo, and
had remained out later than he had done since the night of his last
visit to San Nicolo. He took his seat in the gondola, and when Giuseppi
asked him if he would go home, said he would first take a turn or two
on the Grand Canal as the night was close and sultry.

There was no moon now, and most of the gondolas carried torches.
Giuseppi was paddling quietly, when a pair-oared gondola shot past
them, and by the light of the torch it carried, Francis recognized the
ladies sitting in it to be Maria and Giulia Polani with their duenna;
two armed retainers sat behind them. They were, Francis supposed,
returning from spending the evening at the house of some of their
friends. There were but few boats now passing along the canal.

Polani's gondola was a considerable distance ahead, when Francis heard
a sudden shout of, "Mind where you are going!"

Then there was a crash of two gondolas striking each other, followed by
an outburst of shouts and cries of alarm, with, Francis thought, the
clash of swords.

"Row, Giuseppi!" he exclaimed, leaping from his seat and catching up
the other oar; and with swift and powerful strokes the two lads drove
the gondola towards the scene of what was either an accident, or an
attempt at crime.

They had no doubt which it was when they arrived at the spot. A
four-oared gondola lay alongside that of the Polanis, and the
gondoliers with their oars, and the two retainers with their swords,
had offered a stout resistance to an armed party who were trying to
board her from the other craft, but their resistance was well nigh over
by the time Francis brought his gondola alongside.

One of the retainers had fallen with a sword thrust through his body,
and a gondolier had been knocked overboard by a blow from an oar. The
two girls were standing up screaming, and the surviving retainer was
being borne backwards by three or four armed men, who were slashing
furiously at him.

"Quick, ladies, jump into my boat!" Francis exclaimed as he came
alongside, and, leaning over, he dragged them one after the other into
his boat, just as their last defender fell.

With a fierce oath the leader of the assailants was about to spring
into the gondola, when Francis, snatching up his oar, smote him with
all his strength on the head as he was in the act of springing, and he
fell with a heavy splash into the water between the boats.

A shout of alarm and rage rose from his followers, but the gondolas
were now separated, and in another moment that of Francis was flying
along the canal at the top of its speed.

"Calm yourselves, ladies," Francis said. "There is no fear of pursuit.
They will stop to pick up the man I knocked into the canal, and by the
time they get him on board we shall be out of their reach."

"What will become of the signora?" the eldest girl asked, when they
recovered a little from their agitation.

"No harm will befall her, you may be sure," Francis said. "It was
evidently an attempt to carry you off, and now that you have escaped
they will care nothing for your duenna. She seemed to have lost her
head altogether, for as I lifted you into the boat she clung so fast to
your garments that I fancy a portion of them were left in her grasp."

"Do you know where to take us? I see you are going in the right
direction?" the girl asked.

"To the Palazzo Polani," Francis said. "I have the honour of being a
friend of your cousin, Matteo Giustiniani, and being with him one day
when you passed in your gondola, he named you to me."

"A friend of Matteo!" the girl repeated in surprise. "Pardon me,
signor, I thought you were two passing gondoliers. It was so dark that
I could not recognize you; and, you see, it is so unusual to see a
gentleman rowing."

"I am English, signora, and we are fond of strong exercise, and so
after nightfall, when it cannot shock my friends, I often take an oar
myself."

"I thank you, sir, with all my heart, for my sister and myself, for the
service you have rendered us. I can hardly understand what has passed,
even now it seems like a dream. We were going quietly along home, when
a large dark gondola dashed out from one of the side canals, and nearly
ran us down. Our gondolier shouted to warn them, but they ran
alongside, and then some men jumped on board, and there was a terrible
fight, and every moment I expected that the gondola would have been
upset. Beppo was knocked overboard, and I saw old Nicolini fall; and
then, just as it seemed all over, you appeared suddenly by our side,
and dragged us on board this boat before I had time to think."

"I am afraid I was rather rough, signora, but there was no time to
stand on ceremony. Here is the palazzo."

The boat was brought up by the side of the steps. Francis leapt ashore
and rang the bell, and then assisted the girls to land. In a minute the
door was thrown open, and two servitors with torches appeared. There
was an exclamation of astonishment as they saw the young ladies alone
with a strange attendant.

"I will do myself the honour of calling tomorrow to inquire if you are
any the worse for your adventure, signora."

"No, indeed," the eldest girl said. "You must come up with us and see
our father. We must tell him what has happened; and he will be angry
indeed, did we suffer our rescuer to depart without his having an
opportunity of thanking him."

Francis bowed and followed the girls upstairs. They entered a large,
very handsomely furnished apartment where a tall man was sitting
reading.

"Why, girls," he exclaimed as he rose, "what has happened? you look
strangely excited. Where is your duenna? and who is this young
gentleman who accompanies you?"

"We have been attacked, father, on our way home," both the girls
exclaimed.

"Attacked?" Signor Polani repeated. "Who has dared to venture on such
an outrage?"

"We don't know, father," Maria said. "It was a four-oared gondola that
ran suddenly into us. We thought it was an accident till a number of
men, with their swords drawn, leaped on board. Then Nicolini and
Francia drew their swords and tried to defend us, and Beppo and Jacopo
both fought bravely too with their oars; but Beppo was knocked
overboard, and I am afraid Nicolini and Francia are killed, and in
another moment they would have got at us, when this young gentleman
came alongside in his gondola, and dragged us on board, for we were too
bewildered and frightened to do anything. One of them--he seemed the
leader of the party--tried to jump on board, but our protector struck
him a terrible blow with his oar, and he fell into the water, and then
the gondola made off, and, so far as we could see, they did not chase
us."

"It is a scandalous outrage, and I will demand justice at the hands of
the council.

"Young sir, you have laid me under an obligation I shall never forget.
You have saved my daughter from the worst calamity that could befall
her. Who is it to whom I am thus indebted?"

"My name is Francis Hammond. My father is an English merchant who has,
for the last four years, established himself here."

"I know him well by repute," Polani said. "I trust I shall know more of
him in the future.

"But where is your duenna, girls?"

"She remained behind in the gondola, father; she seemed too frightened
to move."

"The lady seemed to have lost her head altogether," Francis said. "As I
was lifting your daughters into my gondola, in a very hasty and
unceremonious way--for the resistance of your servitors was all but
overcome, and there was no time to be lost--she held so tightly to
their robes that they were rent in her hands."

Signor Polani struck a gong.

"Let a gondola be manned instantly," he said, "and let six of you take
arms and go in search of our boat. Let another man at once summon a
leech, for some of those on board are, I fear, grievously wounded, if
not killed."

But there was no occasion to carry out the order concerning the boat,
for before it was ready to start the missing gondola arrived at the
steps, rowed by the remaining gondolier. The duenna was lifted out
sobbing hysterically, and the bodies of the two retainers were then
landed. One was dead; the other expired a few minutes after being
brought ashore.

"You did not observe anything particular about the gondola, Maria, or
you, Giulia?"

"No, father, I saw no mark or escutcheon upon it, though they might
have been there without my noticing them. I was too frightened to see
anything; it came so suddenly upon us."

"It was, as far as I noticed, a plain black gondola," Francis said.
"The men concerned in the affair were all dressed in dark clothes,
without any distinguishing badges."

"How was it you came to interfere in the fray, young gentleman? Few of
our people would have done so, holding it to be a dangerous thing, for
a man to mix himself up in a quarrel in which he had no concern."

"I should probably have mixed myself up in it, in any case, when I
heard the cry of women," Francis replied; "but, in truth, I recognized
the signoras as their gondola passed mine, and knew them to be cousins
of my friend Matteo Giustiniani. Therefore when I heard the outcry
ahead, I naturally hastened up to do what I could in the matter."

"And well you did it," Polani said heartily. "I trust that the man you
felled into the water is he who is the author of this outrage. I do not
think I need seek far for him. My suspicions point very strongly in one
direction, and tomorrow I will lay the matter before the council and
demand reparation."

"And now, signor, if you will permit me I will take my leave," Francis
said. "The hour is late, and the signoras will require rest after their
fright and emotion."

"I will see you tomorrow, sir. I shall do myself the honour of calling
early upon your father, to thank him for the great service you have
rendered me."

Signor Polani accompanied Francis to the steps, while two servants held
torches while he took his seat in the gondola, and remained standing
there until the barque had shot away beyond the circle of light.

"We seem fated to have adventures, Giuseppi."

"We do indeed, Messer Francisco, and this is more to my liking than the
last. We arrived just at the nick of time; another half minute and
those young ladies would have been carried off. That was a rare blow
you dealt their leader. I fancy he never came up again, and that that
is why we got away without being chased."

"I am of that opinion myself, Giuseppi."

"If that is the case we shall not have heard the last of it, Messer
Francisco. Only someone of a powerful family would venture upon so bold
a deed, as to try to carry off ladies of birth on the Grand Canal, and
you may find that this adventure has created for you enemies not to be
despised."

"I can't help it if it has," Francis said carelessly. "On the other
hand, it will gain for me an influential friend in Signor Polani, who
is not only one of the richest merchants of Venice, but closely related
to a number of the best families of the city."

"His influence will not protect you against the point of a dagger,"
Giuseppi said. "Your share in this business cannot but become public,
and I think that it would be wise to give up our evening excursions at
present."

"I don't agree with you, Giuseppi. We don't go about with torches
burning, so no one who meets us is likely to recognize us. One gondola
in the dark is pretty much like another, and however many enemies I
had, I should not be afraid of traversing the canals."

The next morning, at breakfast time, Francis related to his father his
adventure of the previous evening.

"It is a mistake, my son, to mix yourself up in broils which do not
concern you; but in the present instance it may be that your adventure
will turn out to be advantageous to your prospects. Signor Polani is
one of the most illustrious merchants of Venice. His name is known
everywhere in the East, and there is not a port in the Levant where his
galleys do not trade. The friendship of such a man cannot but be most
useful to me.

"Upon the other hand, you will probably make some enemies by your
interference with the plans of some unscrupulous young noble, and
Venice is not a healthy city for those who have powerful enemies; still
I think that the advantages will more than balance the risk.

"However, Francis, you must curb your spirit of adventure. You are not
the son of a baron or count, and the winning of honour and glory by
deeds of arms neither befits you, nor would be of advantage to you in
any way. A trader of the city of London should be distinguished for his
probity and his attention to business; and methinks that, ere long, it
will be well to send you home to take your place in the counting house
under the eye of my partner, John Pearson.

"Hitherto I have not checked your love for arms, or your intercourse
with youths of far higher rank than your own; but I have been for some
time doubting the wisdom of my course in bringing you out here with me,
and have regretted that I did not leave you in good hands at home. The
events of last night show that the time is fast approaching when you
can no longer be considered a boy, and it will be better for you to
turn at once into the groove in which you are to travel, than to
continue a mode of life which will unfit you for the career of a city
trader."

Francis knew too well his duty towards his father to make any reply,
but his heart sank at the prospect of settling down in the
establishment in London. His life there had not been an unpleasant one,
but he knew that he should find it terribly dull, after the freedom and
liberty he had enjoyed in Venice. He had never, however, even to
himself, indulged the idea that any other career, save that of his
father, could be his; and had regarded it as a matter of course that,
some day, he would take his place in the shop in Cheapside.

Now that it was suddenly presented to him as something which would
shortly take place, a feeling of repugnance towards the life came over
him. Not that he dreamt for a moment of trying to induce his father to
allow him to seek some other calling. He had been always taught to
consider the position of a trader of good standing, of the city of
London, as one of the most desirable possible. The line between the
noble and the citizen was so strongly marked that no one thought of
overstepping it. The citizens of London were as proud of their position
and as tenacious of their rights as were the nobles themselves. They
were ready enough to take up arms to defend their privileges and to
resist oppression, whether it came from king or noble; but few indeed,
even of the wilder spirits of the city, ever thought of taking to arms
as a profession.

It was true that honour and rank were to be gained, by those who rode
in the train of great nobles to the wars, but the nobles drew their
following from their own estates, and not from among the dwellers in
the cities; and, although the bodies of men-at-arms and archers,
furnished by the city to the king in his wars, always did their duty
stoutly in the field, they had no opportunity of distinguishing
themselves singly. The deeds which attracted attention, and led to
honour and rank, were performed by the esquires and candidates for the
rank of knighthood, who rode behind the barons into the thick of the
French chivalry.

Therefore Francis Hammond had never thought of taking to the profession
of arms in his own country; though, when the news arrived in Venice of
desperate fighting at sea with the Genoese, he had thought, to himself,
that the most glorious thing in life must be to command a well-manned
galley, as she advanced to the encounter of an enemy superior in
numbers. He had never dreamed that such an aspiration could ever be
satisfied--it was merely one of the fancies in which lads so often
indulge.

Still, the thought that he was soon to return and take his place in the
shop in Chepe was exceedingly unpleasant to him.

Soon after breakfast the bell at the water gate rang loudly, and a
minute later the servant entered with the news that Signor Polani was
below, and begged an interview. Mr. Hammond at once went down to the
steps to receive his visitor, whom he saluted with all ceremony, and
conducted upstairs.

"I am known to you by name, no doubt, Signor Hammond, as you are to
me," the Venetian said, when the first formal greetings were over. "I
am not a man of ceremony, nor, I judge, are you; but even if I were,
the present is not an occasion for it. Your son has doubtless told you
of the inestimable service, which he rendered to me last night, by
saving my daughters, or rather my eldest daughter--for it was doubtless
she whom the villains sought--from being borne off by one of the worst
and most disreputable of the many bad and disreputable young men of
this city."

"I am indeed glad, Signor Polani, that my son was able to be of service
to you. I have somewhat blamed myself that I have let him have his own
way so much, and permitted him to give himself up to exercises of arms,
more befitting the son of a warlike noble than of a peaceful trader;
but the quickness and boldness, which the mastery of arms gives, was
yesterday of service, and I no longer regret the time he has spent,
since it has enabled him to be of aid to the daughters of Signor
Polani."

"A mastery of arms is always useful, whether a man be a peace-loving
citizen, or one who would carve his way to fame by means of his
weapons. We merchants of the Mediterranean might give up our trade, if
we were not prepared to defend our ships against the corsairs of
Barbary, and the pirates who haunt every inlet and islet of the Levant
now, as they have ever done since the days of Rome. Besides, it is the
duty of every citizen to defend his native city when attacked. And
lastly, there are the private enemies, that every man who rises but in
the smallest degree above his fellows is sure to create for himself.

"Moreover, a training in arms, as you say, gives readiness and
quickness, it enables the mind to remain calm and steadfast amidst
dangers of all sorts, and, methinks, it adds not a little to a man's
dignity and self respect to know that he is equal, man to man, to any
with whom he may come in contact. Here in Venice we are all soldiers
and sailors, and your son will make no worse merchant, but rather the
better, for being able to wield sword and dagger.

"Even now," he said with a smile, "he has proved the advantage of his
training; for, though I say it not boastfully, Nicholas Polani has it
in his power to be of some use to his friends, and foremost among them
he will henceforward count your brave son, and, if you will permit him,
yourself.

"But you will, I trust, excuse my paying you but a short visit this
morning, for I am on my way to lay a complaint before the council. I
have already been round to several of my friends, and Phillipo
Giustiniani and some six others, nearest related to me, will go with
me, being all aggrieved at this outrage to a family nearly connected. I
crave you to permit me to take your son with me, in order that he may
be at hand, if called upon, to say what he knows of the affair."

"Assuredly it is his duty to go with you if you desire it; although I
own I am not sorry that he could see, as he tells me, no badge or
cognizance which would enable him to say aught which can lead to the
identification of those who would have abducted your daughter. It is
but too well known a fact that it is dangerous to make enemies in
Venice, for even the most powerful protection does not avail against
the stab of a dagger."

"That is true enough," the merchant said. "The frequency of
assassinations is a disgrace to our city; nor will it ever be put down
until some men of high rank are executed, and the seignory show that
they are as jealous of the lives of private citizens, as they are of
the honour and well being of the republic."

Francis gladly threw aside his books when he was told that Signor
Polani desired him to accompany him, and was soon seated by the side of
the merchant in his gondola.

"How old are you, my friend?" the merchant asked him, as the boat
threaded the mazes of the canals.

"I am just sixteen, signor."

"No more!" the merchant said in surprise. "I had taken you for
well-nigh two years older. I have but just come from the Palazzo
Giustiniani, and my young kinsman, Matteo, tells me that in the School
of Arms there are none of our young nobles who are your match with
rapier or battleaxe."

"I fear, sir," Francis said modestly, "that I have given up more time
to the study of arms than befits the son of a sober trader."

"Not at all," the Venetian replied. "We traders have to defend our
rights and our liberties, our goods and our ships, just as much as the
nobles have to defend their privileges and their castles. Here in
Venice there are no such distinctions of rank as there are elsewhere.
Certain families, distinguished among the rest by their long standing,
wealth, influence, or the services they have rendered to the state, are
of senatorial rank, and constitute our nobility; but there are no
titles among us. We are all citizens of the republic, with our rights
and privileges, which cannot be infringed even by the most powerful;
and the poorest citizen has an equal right to make himself as
proficient in the arms, which he may be called upon to wield in defence
of the state, as the Doge himself. In your country also, I believe, all
men are obliged to learn the use of arms, to practise shooting at the
butts, and to make themselves efficient, if called upon to take part in
the wars of the country. And I have heard that at the jousts, the
champions of the city of London have ere now held their own against
those of the court."

"They have done so," Francis said; "and yet, I know not why, it is
considered unseemly for the sons of well-to-do citizens to be too fond
of military exercises."

"The idea is a foolish one," the Venetian said hotly. "I myself have, a
score of times, defended my ships against corsairs and pirates,
Genoese, and other enemies. I have fought against the Greeks, and been
forced to busy myself in more than one serious fray in the streets of
Constantinople, Alexandria, and other ports, and have served in the
galleys of the state. All men who live by trade must be in favour of
peace; but they must also be prepared to defend their goods, and the
better able they are to do it, the more the honour to them.

"But here we are at the Piazzetta."

A group of nobles were standing near the landing place, and Signor
Polani at once went up to them, and introduced Francis to them as the
gentleman who had done his daughter and their kinswoman such good
service. Francis was warmly thanked and congratulated by them all.

"Will you wait near the entrance?" Signor Polani said. "I see that my
young cousin, Matteo, has accompanied his father, and you will, no
doubt, find enough to say to each other while we are with the council."

The gentlemen entered the palace, and Matteo, who had remained
respectfully at a short distance from the seniors, at once joined his
friend.

"Well, Francis, I congratulate you heartily, though I feel quite
jealous of you. It was splendid to think of your dashing up in your
gondola, and carrying off my pretty cousins from the clutches of that
villain, Ruggiero Mocenigo, just as he was about to lay his hands on
them."

"Are you sure it was Ruggiero, Matteo?"

"Oh, there can't be any doubt about it. You know, he had asked for
Maria's hand, and when Polani refused him, had gone off muttering
threats. You know what his character is. He is capable of any evil
action; besides, they say that he has dissipated his patrimony, in
gaming and other extravagances at Constantinople, and is deep in the
hands of the Jews. If he could have succeeded in carrying off Maria it
would more than have mended his fortunes, for she and her sister are
acknowledged to be the richest heiresses in Venice. Oh, there is not a
shadow of doubt that it's he.

"You won't hear me saying anything against your love of prowling about
in that gondola of yours, since it has brought you such a piece of good
fortune--for it is a piece of good fortune, Francis, to have rendered
such a service to Polani, to say nothing of all the rest of us who are
connected with his family. I can tell you that there are scores of
young men of good birth in Venice, who would give their right hand to
have done what you did."

"I should have considered myself fortunate to have been of service to
any girls threatened by violence, though they had only been fishermen's
daughters," Francis said; "but I am specially pleased because they are
relatives of yours, Matteo."

"To say nothing to their being two of the prettiest girls in Venice,"
Matteo added slyly.

"That counts for something too, no doubt," Francis said laughing,
"though I didn't think of it.

"I wonder," he went on gravely, "whether that was Ruggiero whom I
struck down, and whether he came up again to the surface. He has very
powerful connections, you know, Matteo; and if I have gained friends, I
shall also have gained enemies by the night's work."

"That is so," Matteo agreed. "For your sake, I own that I hope that
Ruggiero is at present at the bottom of the canal. He was certainly no
credit to his friends; and although they would of course have stood by
him, I do not think they will feel, at heart, in any way displeased to
know that he will trouble them no longer. But if his men got him out
again, I should say you had best be careful, for Ruggiero is about the
last man in Venice I should care to have as an enemy. However, we won't
look at the unpleasant side of the matter, and will hope that his
career has been brought to a close."

"I don't know which way to hope," Francis said gravely. "He will
certainly be a dangerous enemy if he is alive; and yet the thought of
having killed a man troubles me much."

"It would not trouble me at all if I were in your place," Matteo said.
"If you had not killed him, you may be very sure that he would have
killed you, and that the deed would have caused him no compunction
whatever. It was a fair fight, just as if it had been a hostile galley
in mid-sea; and I don't see why the thought of having rid Venice of one
of her worst citizens need trouble you in any way."

"You see I have been brought up with rather different ideas to yours,
Matteo. My father, as a trader, is adverse to fighting of all
kinds--save, of course, in defence of one's country; and although he
has not blamed me in any way for the part I took, I can see that he is
much disquieted, and indeed speaks of sending me back to England at
once."

"Oh, I hope not!" Matteo said earnestly. "Hitherto you and I have been
great friends, Francis, but we shall be more in future. All Polani's
friends will regard you as one of themselves; and I was even thinking,
on my way here, that perhaps you and I might enter the service of the
state together, and get appointed to a war galley in a few years."

"My father's hair would stand up at the thought, Matteo; though, for
myself, I should like nothing so well. However, that could never have
been. Still I am sorry, indeed, at the thought of leaving Venice. I
have been very happy here, and I have made friends, and there is always
something to do or talk about; and the life in London would be so dull
in comparison. But here comes one of the ushers from the palace."

The official came up to them, and asked if either of them was Messer
Francisco Hammond, and, finding that he had come to the right person,
requested Francis to follow him.



Chapter 4: Carried Off.


It was with a feeling of considerable discomfort, and some awe, that
Francis Hammond followed his conductor to the chamber of the Council.
It was a large and stately apartment. The decorations were magnificent,
and large pictures, representing events in the wars of Venice, hung
round the walls. The ceiling was also superbly painted. The cornices
were heavily gilded. Curtains of worked tapestry hung by the windows,
and fell behind him as he entered the door.

At a table of horseshoe shape eleven councillors, clad in the long
scarlet robes, trimmed with ermine, which were the distinguishing dress
of Venetian senators, were seated--the doge himself acting as
president. On their heads they wore black velvet caps, flat at the top,
and in shape somewhat resembling the flat Scotch bonnet. Signor Polani
and his companions were seated in chairs, facing the table.

When Francis entered the gondolier was giving evidence as to the attack
upon his boat. Several questions were asked him when he had finished,
and he was then told to retire. The usher then brought Francis forward.

"This is Messer Francisco Hammond," he said.

"Tell your story your own way," the doge said.

Francis related the story of the attack on the gondola, and the escape
of the ladies in his boat.

"How came you, a foreigner and a youth, to interfere in a fray of this
kind?" one of the councillors asked.

"I did not stop to think of my being a stranger, or a youth," Francis
replied quietly. "I heard the screams of women in distress, and felt
naturally bound to render them what aid I could."

"Did you know who the ladies were?"

"I knew them only by sight. My friend Matteo Giustiniani had pointed
them out to me, on one occasion, as being the daughters of Signor
Polani, and connections of his. When their gondola had passed mine, a
few minutes previously, I recognized their faces by the light of the
torches in their boat."

"Were the torches burning brightly?" another of the council asked;
"because it may be that this attack was not intended against them, but
against some others."

"The light was bright enough for me to recognize their faces at a
glance," Francis said, "and also the yellow and white sashes of their
gondoliers."

"Did you see any badge or cognizance, either on the gondola or on the
persons of the assailants?"

"I did not," Francis said. "They certainly wore none. One of the
torches in the Polani gondola had been extinguished in the fray, but
the other was still burning, and, had the gondoliers worn coloured
sashes or other distinguishing marks, I should have noticed them."

"Should you recognize, were you to see them again, any of the
assailants?"

"I should not," Francis said. "They were all masked."

"You say you struck down the one who appeared to be their leader with
an oar, as he was about to leap into your boat. How was it the oar was
in your hand instead of that of your gondolier?"

"I was myself rowing," Francis said. "In London, rowing is an amusement
of which boys of all classes are fond, and since I have been out here
with my father I have learned to row a gondola; and sometimes, when I
am out of an evening, I take an oar as well as my gondolier, enjoying
the exercise and the speed at which the boat goes along. I was not
rowing when the signora's boat passed me, but upon hearing the screams,
I stood up and took the second oar, to arrive as quickly as possible at
the spot. That was how it was that I had it in my hand, when the man
was about to leap into the boat."

"Then there is nothing at all, so far as you know, to direct your
suspicion against anyone as the author of this attack?"

"There was nothing," Francis said, "either in the gondola itself, or in
the attire or persons of those concerned in the fray, which could give
me the slightest clue as to their identity."

"At any rate, young gentleman," the doge said, "you appear to have
behaved with a promptness, presence of mind, and courage--for it needs
courage to interfere in a fray of this sort--beyond your years; and, in
the name of the republic, I thank you for having prevented the
commission of a grievous crime. You will please to remain here for the
present. It may be that, when the person accused of this crime appears
before us, you may be able to recognize his figure."

It was with mixed feelings that Francis heard, a minute or two later,
the usher announce that Signor Ruggiero Mocenigo was without, awaiting
the pleasure of their excellencies.

"Let him enter," the doge said.

The curtains fell back, and Ruggiero Mocenigo entered with a haughty
air. He bowed to the council, and stood as if expecting to be
questioned.

"You are charged, Ruggiero Mocenigo," the doge said, "with being
concerned in an attempt to carry off the daughters of Signor Polani,
and of taking part in the killing of three servitors of that
gentleman."

"On what grounds am I accused?" Ruggiero said haughtily.

"On the ground that you are a rejected suitor for the elder lady's
hand, and that you had uttered threats against her father, who, so far
as he knows, has no other enemies."

"This seems somewhat scanty ground for an accusation of such gravity,"
Ruggiero said sneeringly. "If every suitor who grumbles, when his offer
is refused, is to be held responsible for every accident which may take
place in the lady's family, methinks that the time of this reverend and
illustrious council will be largely occupied."

"You will remember," the doge said sternly, "that your previous conduct
gives good ground for suspicion against you. You have already been
banished from the state for two years for assassination, and such
reports as reached us of your conduct in Constantinople, during your
exile, were the reverse of satisfactory. Had it not been so, the
prayers of your friends, that your term of banishment might be
shortened, would doubtless have produced their effect."

"At any rate," Ruggiero said, "I can, with little difficulty, prove
that I had no hand in any attempt upon Signor Polani's daughters last
night, seeing that I had friends spending the evening with me, and that
we indulged in play until three o'clock this morning--an hour at which,
I should imagine, the Signoras Polani would scarcely be abroad."

"At what time did your friends assemble?"

"At nine o'clock," Ruggiero said. "We met by agreement in the Piazza,
somewhat before that hour, and proceeded together on foot to my house."

"Who were your companions?"

Ruggiero gave the names of six young men, all connections of his
family, and summonses were immediately sent for them to attend before
the council.

"In the meantime, Messer Francisco Hammond, you can tell us whether you
recognize in the accused one of the assailants last night."

"I cannot recognize him, your excellency," Francis said; "but I can say
certainly that he was not the leader of the party, whom I struck with
my oar. The blow fell on the temple, and assuredly there would be marks
of such a blow remaining today."

As Francis was speaking, Ruggiero looked at him with a cold piercing
glance, which expressed the reverse of gratitude for the evidence which
he was giving in his favour, and something like a chill ran through him
as he resumed his seat behind Signor Polani and his friends.

There was silence for a quarter of an hour. Occasionally the members of
the council spoke in low tones to each other, but no word was spoken
aloud, until the appearance of the first of the young men who had been
summoned. One after another they gave their evidence, and all were
unanimous in declaring that they had spent the evening with Ruggiero
Mocenigo, and that he did not leave the room, from the moment of his
arrival there soon after nine o'clock, until they left him at two in
the morning.

"You have heard my witnesses," Ruggiero said, when the last had given
his testimony; "and I now ask your excellencies, whether it is right
that a gentleman, of good family, should be exposed to a villainous
accusation of this kind, on the barest grounds of suspicion?"

"You have heard the evidence which has been given, Signor Polani," the
doge said. "Do you withdraw your accusation against Signor Mocenigo?"

"I acknowledge, your excellency," Signor Polani said, rising, "that
Ruggiero Mocenigo has proved that he took no personal part in the
affair, but I will submit to you that this in no way proves that he is
not the author of the attempt. He would know that my first suspicion
would fall upon him, and would, therefore, naturally leave the matter
to be carried out by others, and would take precautions to enable him
to prove, as he has done, that he was not present. I still maintain
that the circumstances of the case, his threats to me, and the fact
that my daughter will naturally inherit a portion of what wealth I
might possess, and that, as I know and can prove, Ruggiero Mocenigo has
been lately reduced to borrowing money of the Jews, all point to his
being the author of this attempt, which would at once satisfy his anger
against me, for having declined the honour of his alliance, and repair
his damaged fortunes."

There were a few words of whispered consultation between the
councillors, and the doge then said:

"All present will now retire while the council deliberates. Our
decision will be made known to the parties concerned, in due time."

On leaving the palace, Signor Polani and his friends walked together
across the Piazza, discussing the turn of events.

"He will escape," Polani said. "He has two near relations on the
council, and however strong our suspicions may be, there is really no
proof against him. I fear that he will go free. I feel as certain as
ever that he is the contriver of the attempt; but the precautions he
has taken seem to render it impossible to bring the crime home to him.
However, it is no use talking about it any more, at present.

"You will, I hope, accompany me home, Signor Francisco, and allow me to
present you formally to my daughters. They were too much agitated, last
night, to be able to thank you fully for the service you had rendered
them.

"Matteo, do you come with us."

Three days passed, and no decision of the council had been announced,
when, early in the morning, one of the state messengers brought an
order that Francis should be in readiness, at nine o'clock, to
accompany him. At that hour a gondola drew up at the steps. It was a
covered gondola, with hangings, which prevented any from seeing who
were within. Francis took his seat by the side of the official, and the
gondola started at once.

"It looks very much as if I was being taken as a prisoner," Francis
said to himself. "However, that can hardly be, for even if Ruggiero
convinced the council that he was wholly innocent of this affair, no
blame could fall on me, for I neither accused nor identified him.
However, it is certainly towards the prisons we are going."

The boat, indeed, was passing the Piazzetta without stopping, and
turned down the canal behind, to the prisons in rear of the palace.
They stopped at the water gate, close to the Bridge of Sighs, and
Francis and his conductor entered. They proceeded along two or three
passages, until they came to a door where an official was standing. A
word was spoken, and they passed in.

The chamber they entered was bare and vaulted, and contained no
furniture whatever, but at one end was a low stone slab, upon which
something was lying covered with a cloak. Four of the members of the
council were standing in a group, talking, when Francis entered. Signor
Polani, with two of his friends, stood apart at one side of the
chamber. Ruggiero Mocenigo also, with two of his companions, stood on
the other side.

Francis thought that the demeanour of Ruggiero was somewhat altered
from that which he had assumed at the previous investigation, and that
he looked sullen and anxious.

"We have sent for you, Francisco Hammond, in order that you may, if you
can, identify a body which was found last night, floating in the Grand
Canal."

One of the officials stepped forward and removed the cloak, showing on
the stone slab the body of a young man. On the left temple there was an
extensive bruise, and the skin was broken.

"Do you recognize that body?"

"I do not recognize the face," Francis said, "and do not know that I
ever saw it before."

"The wound upon the temple which you see, is it such as, you would
suppose, would be caused by the blow you struck an unknown person,
while he was engaged in attacking the gondola of Signor Polani?"

"I cannot say whether it is such a wound as would be caused by a blow
with an oar," Francis said; "but it is certainly, as nearly as
possible, on the spot where I struck the man, just as he was leaping,
sword in hand, into my gondola."

"You stated, at your examination the other day, that it was on the left
temple you struck the blow."

"I did so. I said at once that Signor Ruggiero Mocenigo could not have
been the man who led the assailants, because had he been so he would
assuredly have borne a mark from the blow on the left temple."

"Look at the clothes. Do you see anything there which could lead you to
identify him with your assailant?"

"My assailant was dressed in dark clothes, as this one was. There was
but one distinguishing mark that I noticed, and this is wanting here.
The light of the torch fell upon the handle of a dagger in his girdle.
I saw it but for a moment, but I caught the gleam of gems. It was only
a passing impression, but I could swear that he carried a small gold or
yellow metal-handled dagger, and I believe that it was set with gems,
but to this I should not like to swear."

"Produce the dagger found upon the dead man," one of the council said
to an official.

And the officer produced a small dagger with a fine steel blade and
gold handle, thickly encrusted with gems.

"Is this the dagger?" the senator asked Francis.

"I cannot say that it is the dagger," Francis replied; "but it closely
resembles it, if it is not the same."

"You have no doubt, I suppose, seeing that wound on the temple, the
dagger found in the girdle, and the fact that the body has evidently
only been a few days in the water, that this is the man whom you struck
down in the fray on the canal?"

"No, signor, I have no doubt whatever that it is the same person."

"That will do," the council said. "You can retire; and we thank you, in
the name of justice, for the evidence you have given."

Francis was led back to the gondola, and conveyed to his father's
house. An hour later Signor Polani arrived.

"The matter is finished," he said, "I cannot say satisfactorily to me,
for the punishment is wholly inadequate to the offence, but at any rate
he has not got off altogether unpunished. After you left, we passed
from the prison into the palace, and then the whole council assembled,
as before, in the council chamber. I may tell you that the body which
was found was that of a cousin and intimate of Ruggiero Mocenigo. The
two have been constantly together since the return of the latter from
Constantinople. It was found, by inquiry at the house of the young
man's father, that he left home on the evening upon which the attack
was committed, saying that he was going to the mainland, and might not
be expected to return for some days.

"The council took it for granted, from the wound in his head, and the
fact that a leech has testified that the body had probably been in the
water about three days, that he was the man that was stunned by your
blow, and drowned in the canal. Ruggiero urged that the discovery in no
way affected him; and that his cousin had, no doubt, attempted to carry
off my daughter on his own account. There was eventually a division
among the council on this point, but Maria was sent for, and on being
questioned, testified that the young man had never spoken to her, and
that, indeed, she did not know him even by sight; and the majority
thereupon came to the conclusion that he could only have been acting as
an instrument of Ruggiero's.

"We were not in the apartment while the deliberation was going on, but
when we returned the president announced that, although there was no
absolute proof of Ruggiero's complicity in the affair, yet that,
considering his application for my daughter's hand, his threats on my
refusal to his request, his previous character, and his intimacy with
his cousin, the council had no doubt that the attempt had been made at
his instigation, and therefore sentenced him to banishment from Venice
and the islands for three years."

"I should be better pleased if they had sent him back to
Constantinople, or one of the islands of the Levant," Mr. Hammond said.
"If he is allowed to take up his abode on the mainland, he may be only
two or three miles away, which, in the case of a man of his
description, is much too near to be pleasant for those who have
incurred his enmity."

"That is true," Signor Polani agreed, "and I myself, and my friends,
are indignant that he should not have been banished to a distance,
where he at least would have been powerless for fresh mischief. On the
other hand, his friends will doubtless consider that he has been hardly
treated. However, as far as my daughters are concerned, I will take
good care that he shall have no opportunity of repeating his attempt;
for I have ordered them, on no account whatever, to be absent from the
palazzo after the shades of evening begin to fall, unless I myself am
with them; and I shall increase the number of armed retainers in the
house, by bringing some of my men on shore from a ship which arrived
last night in port. I cannot believe that even Ruggiero would have the
insolence to attempt to carry them off from the house by force; but
when one has to deal with a man like this, one cannot take too great
precautions."

"I have already ordered my son, on no account, to be out after
nightfall in the streets. In his gondola I do not mind, for unless the
gondoliers wear badges, it is impossible to tell one boat from another
after dark. Besides, as he tells me, his boat is so fast that he has no
fear whatever of being overtaken, even if recognized and chased. But I
shall not feel comfortable so long as he is here, and shall send him
back to England on the very first occasion that offers."

"I trust that no such occasion may occur just yet, Signor Hammond. I
should be sorry, indeed, for your son to be separated so soon from us.
We must talk the matter over together, and perhaps between us we may
hit on some plan by which, while he may be out of the reach of the
peril he has incurred on behalf of my family, he may yet be neither
wasting his time, nor altogether separated from us."

For the next fortnight Francis spent most of his time at the Palazzo
Polani. The merchant was evidently sincere in his invitation to him to
make his house his home; and if a day passed without the lad paying a
visit, would chide him gently for deserting them. He himself was
frequently present in the balcony, where the four young people--for
Matteo Giustiniani was generally of the party--sat and chatted
together, the gouvernante sitting austerely by, with at times a strong
expression of disapproval on her countenance at their laughter and
merriment, although--as her charges' father approved of the intimacy of
the girls with their young cousin and this English lad--she could offer
no open objections. In the afternoon, the party generally went for a
long row in a four-oared gondola, always returning home upon the
approach of evening.

To Francis this time was delightful. He had had no sister of his own;
and although he had made the acquaintance of a number of lads in
Venice, and had accompanied his father to formal entertainments at the
houses of his friends, he had never before been intimate in any of
their families. The gaiety and high spirits of the two girls, when they
were in the house, amused and pleased him, especially as it was in
contrast to the somewhat stiff and dignified demeanour which they
assumed when passing through the frequented canals in the gondola.

"I do not like that woman Castaldi," Francis said one evening as, after
leaving the palazzo, Giuseppi rowed them towards the Palazzo
Giustiniani, where Matteo was to be landed.

"Gouvernantes are not popular, as a class, with young men," Matteo
laughed.

"But seriously, Matteo, I don't like her; and I am quite sure that, for
some reason or other, she does not like me. I have seen her watching
me, as a cat would watch a mouse she is going to spring on."

"Perhaps she has not forgiven you, Francisco, for saving her two
charges, and leaving her to the mercy of their assailants."

"I don't know, Matteo. Her conduct appeared to me, at the time, to be
very strange. Of course, she might have been paralysed with fright, but
it was certainly curious the way she clung to their dresses, and tried
to prevent them from leaving the boat."

"You don't really think, Francis, that she wanted them to be captured?"

"I don't know whether I should be justified in saying as much as that,
Matteo, and I certainly should not say so to anyone else, but I can't
help thinking that such was the case. I don't like her face, and I
don't like the woman. She strikes me as being deceitful. She certainly
did try to prevent my carrying the girls off and, had not their dresses
given way in her hands, she would have done so. Anyhow, it strikes me
that Ruggiero must have had some accomplice in the house. How else
could he have known of the exact time at which they would be passing
along the Grand Canal? For, that the gondola was in waiting to dash out
and surprise them, there is no doubt.

"I was asking Signora Giulia, the other day, how it was they were so
late, for she says that her father never liked their being out after
dusk in Venice, though at Corfu he did not care how late they were upon
the water. She replied that she did not quite know how it happened. Her
sister had said, some time before, that she thought it was time to be
going, but the gouvernante--who was generally very particular--had said
that there was no occasion to hurry, as their father knew where they
were, and would not be uneasy. She thought the woman must have mistaken
the time, and did not know how late it was.

"Of course, this proves nothing. Still I own that, putting all the
things together, I have my suspicions."

"It is certainly curious, Francisco, though I can hardly believe it
possible that the woman could be treacherous. She has been for some
years in the service of the family, and my cousin has every confidence
in her."

"That may be, Matteo; but Ruggiero may have promised so highly that he
may have persuaded her to aid him. He could have afforded to be
generous, if he had been successful."

"There is another thing, by the bye, Francisco, which did not strike me
at the time; but now you speak of it, may be another link in the chain.
I was laughing at Maria about their screaming, and saying what a noise
the three of them must have made, and she said, 'Oh, no! there were
only two of us--Giulia and I screamed for aid at the top of our voices;
but the signora was as quiet and brave as possible, and did not utter a
sound.'"

"That doesn't agree, Matteo, with her being so frightened as to hold
the girls tightly, and almost prevent their escape, or with the row she
made, sobbing and crying, when she came back. Of course there is not
enough to go upon; and I could hardly venture to speak of it to Signor
Polani, or to accuse a woman, in whom he has perfect confidence, of
such frightful treachery on such vague grounds of suspicion. Still I do
suspect her; and I hope, when I go away from Venice, you will, as far
as you can, keep an eye upon her."

"I do not know how to do that," Matteo said, laughing; "but I will tell
my cousins that we don't like her, and advise them, in future, not on
any account to stay out after dusk, even if she gives them permission
to do so; and if I learn anything more to justify our suspicions, I
will tell my cousin what you and I think, though it won't be a pleasant
thing to do. However, Ruggiero is gone now, and I hope we sha'n't hear
anything more about him."

"I hope not, Matteo; but I am sure he is not the man to give up the
plan he has once formed easily, any more than he is to forgive an
injury.

"However, here we are at your steps. We will talk the other matter over
another time. Anyhow, I am glad I have told you what I thought, for it
has been worrying me. Now that I find you don't think my ideas about
her are altogether absurd, I will keep my eyes more open than ever in
future. I am convinced she is a bad one, and I only hope we may be able
to prove it."

"You have made me very uncomfortable, Francisco," Matteo said as he
stepped ashore; "but we will talk about it again tomorrow."

"We shall meet at your cousin's in the evening. Before that time, we
had better both think over whether we ought to tell anyone our
suspicions, and we can hold a council in the gondola on the way back."

Francis did think the matter over that night. He felt that the fact
told him by Giulia, that the gouvernante had herself been the means of
their staying out later than usual on the evening of the attack, added
great weight to the vague suspicions he had previously entertained; and
he determined to let the matter rest no longer, but that the next day
he would speak to Signor Polani, even at the risk of offending him by
his suspicions of a person who had been, for some years, in his
confidence. Accordingly, he went in the morning to the palazzo, but
found that Signor Polani was absent, and would not be in until two or
three o'clock in the afternoon. He did not see the girls, who, he knew,
were going out to spend the day with some friends.

At three o'clock he returned, and found that Polani had just come in.

"Why, Francisco," the merchant said when he entered, "have you
forgotten that my daughters will be out all day?"

"No, signor, I have not forgotten that, but I wish to speak to you. I
dare say you will laugh at me, but I hope you will not think me
meddlesome, or impertinent, for touching upon a subject which concerns
you nearly."

"I am sure you will not be meddlesome or impertinent, Francisco,"
Signor Polani said reassuringly, for he saw that the lad was nervous
and anxious. "Tell me what you have to say, and I can promise you
beforehand that, whether I agree with you or not in what you may have
to say, I shall be in no way vexed, for I shall know you have said it
with the best intentions."

"What I have to say, sir, concerns the Signora Castaldi, your
daughters' gouvernante. I know, sir, that you repose implicit
confidence in her; and your judgment, formed after years of intimate
knowledge, is hardly likely to be shaken by what I have to tell you. I
spoke to Matteo about it, and, as he is somewhat of my opinion, I have
decided that it is, at least, my duty to tell you all the
circumstances, and you can then form your own conclusions."

Francis then related the facts known to him. First, that the assailants
of the gondola must have had accurate information as to the hour at
which they would come along; secondly, that it was at the gouvernante's
suggestion that the return had been delayed much later than usual;
lastly, that when the attack took place, the gouvernante did not raise
her voice to cry for assistance, and that she had, at the last moment,
so firmly seized their dresses, that it was only by tearing the girls
from her grasp that he had been enabled to get them into the boat.

"There may be nothing in all this," he said when he had concluded. "But
at least, sir, I thought that it was right you should know it; and you
will believe me, that it is only anxiety as to the safety of your
daughters that has led me to speak to you."

"Of that I am quite sure," Signor Polani said cordially, "and you were
perfectly right in speaking to me. I own, however, that I do not for a
moment think that the circumstances are more than mere coincidences.
Signora Castaldi has been with me for upwards of ten years. She has
instructed and trained my daughters entirely to my satisfaction. I do
not say that she is everything that one could wish, but, then, no one
is perfect, and I have every confidence in her fidelity and
trustworthiness. I own that the chain you have put together is a strong
one, and had she but lately entered my service, and were she a person
of whom I knew but little, I should attach great weight to the facts,
although taken in themselves they do not amount to much. Doubtless she
saw that my daughters were enjoying themselves in the society of my
friends, and in her kindness of heart erred, as she certainly did err,
in allowing them to stay longer than she should have done.

"Then, as to her not crying out when attacked, women behave differently
in cases of danger. Some scream loudly, others are silent, as if
paralysed by fear. This would seem to have been her case. Doubtless she
instinctively grasped the girls for their protection, and in her fright
did not even perceive that a boat had come alongside, or know that you
were a friend trying to save them. That someone informed their
assailants of the whereabouts of my daughters, and the time they were
coming home, is clear; but they might have been seen going to the
house, and a swift gondola have been placed on the watch. Had this boat
started as soon as they took their seat in the gondola on their return,
and hastened, by the narrow canals, to the spot where their accomplices
were waiting, they could have warned them in ample time of the approach
of the gondola with my daughters.

"I have, as you may believe, thought the matter deeply over, for it was
evident to me that the news of my daughters' coming must have reached
their assailants beforehand. I was most unwilling to suspect treachery
on the part of any of my household, and came to the conclusion that the
warning was given in the way I have suggested.

"At the same time, Francisco, I thank you deeply for having mentioned
to me the suspicions you have formed, and although I think that you are
wholly mistaken, I certainly shall not neglect the warning, but shall
watch very closely the conduct of my daughters' gouvernante, and shall
take every precaution to put it out of her power to play me false, even
while I cannot, for a moment, believe she would be so base and
treacherous as to attempt to do so."

"In that case, signor, I shall feel that my mission has not been
unsuccessful, however mistaken I may be, and I trust sincerely that I
am wholly wrong. I thank you much for the kind way in which you have
heard me express suspicions of a person in your confidence."

The gravity with which the merchant had heard Francis' story vanished
immediately he left the room, and a smile came over his face.

"Boys are boys all the world over," he said to himself, "and though my
young friend has almost the stature of a man, as well as the quickness
and courage of one, and has plenty of sense in other matters, he has at
once the prejudices and the romantic ideas of a boy. Had Signora
Castaldi been young and pretty, no idea that she was treacherous would
have ever entered his mind; but what young fellow yet ever liked a
gouvernante, who sits by and works at her tambour frame, with a
disapproving expression on her face, while he is laughing and talking
with a girl of his own age. I should have felt the same when I was a
boy. Still, to picture the poor signora as a traitoress, in the pay of
that villain Mocenigo, is too absurd. I had the greatest difficulty in
keeping my gravity when he was unfolding his story. But he is an
excellent lad, nevertheless. A true, honest, brave lad, with a little
of the bluffness that they say all his nation possess, but with a heart
of gold, unless I am greatly mistaken."

At seven o'clock, Francis was just getting into his gondola to go round
again to Signor Polani's, when another gondola came along the canal at
the top of its speed, and he recognized at once the badge of the
Giustiniani. It stopped suddenly as it came abreast of his own boat,
and Matteo, in a state of the highest excitement, jumped from his own
boat into that of Francis.

"What is the matter, Matteo? What has happened?"

"I have terrible news, Francisco. My cousins have both disappeared."

"Disappeared!" Francis repeated in astonishment "How have they
disappeared?"

"Their father has just been round to see mine. He is half mad with
grief and anger. You know they had gone to spend the day at the
Persanis?"

"Yes, yes," Francis exclaimed; "but do go on, Matteo. Tell me all about
it, quickly."

"Well, it seems that Polani, for some reason or other, thought he would
go and fetch them himself, and at five o'clock he arrived there in his
gondola, only to find that they had left two hours before. You were
right, Francisco, it was that beldam Castaldi. She went with them there
in the morning, and left them there, and was to have come in the
gondola for them at six. At three o'clock she arrived, saying that
their father had met with a serious accident, having fallen down the
steps of one of the bridges and broken his leg, and that he had sent
her to fetch them at once.

"Of course, they left with her instantly. Polani questioned the
lackeys, who had aided them to embark. They said that the gondola was
not one of his boats, but was apparently a hired gondola, with a closed
cabin. The girls had stopped in surprise as they came down the steps,
and Maria said, 'Why, this is not our gondola!'

"Castaldi replied, 'No, no; our own gondolas had both gone off to find
and bring a leech, and as your father was urgently wanting you, I
hailed the first passing boat. Make haste, dears, your father is
longing for you.'

"So they got on board at once, and the gondola rowed swiftly away. That
is all I know about it, except that the story was a lie, that their
father never sent for them, and that up to a quarter of an hour ago
they had not reached home."



Chapter 5: Finding A Clue.


"This is awful, Matteo," Francis said, when his friend had finished his
story. "What is to be done?"

"That is just the thing, Francisco. What is to be done? My cousin has
been already to the city magistrates, to tell them what has taken
place, and to request their aid in discovering where the girls have
been carried to. I believe that he is going to put up a proclamation,
announcing that he will give a thousand ducats to whomsoever will bring
information which will enable him to recover the girls. That will set
every gondolier on the canals on the alert, and some of them must
surely have noticed a closed gondola rowed by two men, for at this time
of year very few gondolas have their covers on. It seems to be terrible
not to be able to do anything, so I came straight off to tell you."

"You had better send your gondola home, Matteo. It may be wanted. We
will paddle out to the lagoon and talk it over. Surely there must be
something to be done, if we could but think of it.

"This is terrible, indeed, Matteo," he repeated, after they had sat
without speaking for some minutes. "One feels quite helpless and
bewildered. To think that only yesterday evening we were laughing and
chatting with them, and that now they are lost, and in the power of
that villain Mocenigo, who you may be sure is at the bottom of it.

"By the way," he said suddenly, "do you know where he has taken up his
abode?"

"I heard that he was at Botonda, near Chioggia, a week ago, but whether
he is there still I have not the least idea."

"It seems to me that the thing to do is to find him, and keep him in
sight. He will probably have them hidden away somewhere, and will not
go near them for some time, for he will know that he will be suspected,
and perhaps watched."

"But why should he not force Maria to marry him at once?" Matteo said.
"You see, when he has once made her his wife he will be safe, for my
cousin would be driven then to make terms with him for her sake."

"He may try that," Francis said; "but he must know that Maria has
plenty of spirit, and may refuse to marry him, threaten her as he will.
He may think that, after she has been kept confined for some time, and
finds that there is no hope of escape, except by consenting to be his
wife, she may give way. But in any case, it seems to me that the thing
to be done is to find Ruggiero, and to watch his movements."

"I have no doubt my cousin has already taken steps in that direction,"
Matteo said, "and I feel sure that, in this case, he will receive the
support of every influential man in Venice, outside the Mocenigo family
and their connections. The carrying off of ladies, in broad daylight,
will be regarded as a personal injury in every family. The last attempt
was different. I do not say it was not bad enough, but it is not like
decoying girls from home by a false message. No one could feel safe, if
such a deed as this were not severely punished."

"Let us go back again, Matteo. It is no use our thinking of anything
until we know what has really been done, and you are sure to be able to
learn, at home, what steps have been taken."

On reaching home Matteo learned that Polani, accompanied by two members
of the council, had already started in one of the swiftest of the state
galleys for the mainland. A council had been hastily summoned, and,
upon hearing Polani's narrative, had dispatched two of their number,
with an official of the republic, to Botonda. If Ruggiero was found to
be still there, he was to be kept a prisoner in the house in which he
was staying, under the strictest watch. If he had left, orders were to
be sent, to every town in the Venetian dominions on the mainland, for
his arrest when discovered, and in that case he was to be sent a
prisoner, strongly guarded, to Venice.

Other galleys had been simultaneously dispatched to the various ports,
ordering a strict search of every boat arriving or leaving, and
directing a minute investigation to be made as to the occupants of
every boat that had arrived during the evening or night. The fact that
a thousand ducats were offered, for information which would lead to the
recovery of the girls, was also to be published far and wide.

The news of the abduction had spread, and the greatest indignation was
excited in the city. The sailors from the port of Malamocco came over
in great numbers. They regarded this outrage on the family of the great
merchant as almost a personal insult. Stones were thrown at the windows
of the Palazzo Mocenigo, and an attack would have been made upon it,
had not the authorities sent down strong guards to protect it. Persons
belonging to that house, and the families connected with it, were
assaulted in the streets, and all Venice was in an uproar.

"There is one comfort," Giuseppi said, when he heard from Francis what
had taken place. "Just at present, Mocenigo will have enough to think
about his own affairs without troubling about you. I have been in a
tremble ever since that day, and have dreamed bad dreams every night."

"You are more nervous for me than I am for myself, Giuseppi; but I have
been careful too, for although Ruggiero himself was away his friends
are here, and active, too, as you see by this successful attempt. But I
think that at present they are likely to let matters sleep. Public
opinion is greatly excited over the affair, and as, if I were found
with a stab in my back, it would, after what has passed, be put down to
them, I think they will leave me alone."

"I do hope, father," Francis said at breakfast the next morning, "that
there may be no opportunity of sending me back to England, until
something is heard of the Polanis."

"I have somewhat changed my mind, Francis, as to that matter. After
what Signor Polani said the other day, I feel that it would be foolish
for me to adhere to that plan. With his immense trade and business
connections he can do almost anything for you, and such an introduction
into business is so vastly better than your entering my shop in the
city, that it is best, in every way, that you should stay here for the
present. Of course, for the time he will be able to think of nothing
but his missing daughters; but at any rate, you can remain here until
he has leisure to pursue the subject, and to state, further than he did
the other day, what he proposes for you. My own business is a good one
for a London trader, but it is nothing by the side of the transactions
of the merchant princes at Venice, among the very first of whom Signor
Polani is reckoned."

Francis was greatly pleased at his father's words. He had, ever since
Polani had spoken to him, been pondering the matter in his mind. He
knew that to enter business under his protection would be one of the
best openings that even Venice could afford; but his father was slow to
change his plans, and Francis greatly feared that he would adhere to
his original plan.

"I was hoping, father, that you would think favourably of what Signor
Polani said, although, of course, I kept silence, knowing that you
would do what was best for me. And now I would ask you if you will,
until this matter is cleared up, excuse me from my tasks. I should
learn nothing did I continue at them, for my mind would be ever running
upon Signor Polani's daughters, and I should be altogether too restless
to apply myself. It seems to me, too, that I might, as I row here and
there in my gondola, obtain some clue as to their place of
concealment."

"I do not see how you could do that, Francis, when so many others, far
better qualified than yourself, will be on the lookout. Still, as I
agree with you that you are not likely to apply your mind diligently to
your tasks, and as, indeed, you will shortly be giving them up
altogether, I grant your request."

Polani returned in the evening to Venice. Ruggiero Mocenigo had been
found. He professed great indignation at the accusation brought against
him, of being concerned in the abduction of the ladies, and protested
furiously when he heard that, until they were found, he was to consider
himself a prisoner. Signor Polani considered that his indignation was
feigned, but he had no doubt as to the reality of his anger at finding
that he was to be confined to his house under a guard.

Immediately after his return, Polani sent his gondola for Francis. He
was pacing up and down the room when the lad arrived.

"Your suspicions have turned out correct, as you see, Francis. Would to
Heaven I had acted upon them at once, and then this would not have
happened. It seemed to me altogether absurd, when you spoke to me, that
the woman I have for years treated as a friend should thus betray me.
And yet your warning made me uneasy, so much so that I set off myself
to fetch them home at five o'clock, only to find that I was too late. I
scarcely know why I have sent for you, Francis, except that as I have
found, to my cost, that you were more clear sighted in this matter than
I, I want to know what you think now, and whether any plan offering
even a chance of success has occurred to you. That they have been
carried off by the friends of Mocenigo I have no doubt whatever."

"I fear, signor," Francis said, "that there is little hope of my
thinking of anything that has not already occurred to you. It seems to
me hardly likely that they can be in the city, although, of course,
they may be confined in the house of Mocenigo's agents. Still, they
would be sure that you would offer large rewards for their discovery,
and would be more likely to take them right away. Besides, I should
think that it was Mocenigo's intention to join them, wherever they may
be, as soon as he learned that they were in the hands of his
accomplices. Your fortunate discovery that they had gone, so soon after
they had been carried off, and your going straight to him armed with
the order of the council, probably upset his calculations, for it is
likely enough that his agents had not arrived at the house, and that he
learned from you, for the first time, that his plans had succeeded. Had
you arrived two or three hours later, you might have found him gone."

"That is what I calculated, Francisco. His agents had but four hours'
start of me. They would, no doubt, carry the girls to the place of
concealment chosen, and would then bear the news to him; whereas I,
going direct in one of the state gondolas, might reach him before they
did, and I feel assured that I did so.

"It was nigh midnight when I arrived, but he was still up, and I doubt
not awaiting the arrival of the villains he had employed. My first step
was to set a watch round the house, with the order to arrest any who
might come and inquire for him. No one, however, came.

"The news, indeed, of the sudden arrival of a state galley, at that
hour, had caused some excitement in the place, and his agents might
well have heard of it upon their arrival. I agree with you in thinking
they are not in the town, but this makes the search all the more
difficult. The question is, what ought we to do next?"

"The reward that you have offered will certainly bring you news,
signor, if any, save those absolutely concerned, have observed anything
suspicious; but I should send to all the fishing villages, on the
islets and on the mainland, to publish the news of the reward you have
offered. Beyond that, I do not see that anything can be done; and I,
too, have thought of nothing else since Matteo brought me the news of
their being carried off. It will be of no use, that I can see, going
among the fishermen and questioning them, because, with such a reward
in view, it is certain that anyone who has anything to tell will come,
of his own accord, to do so."

"I know that is the case already, Francisco. The authorities have been
busy all day with the matter, and a score of reports as to closed
gondolas being seen have reached them; but so far nothing has come of
it. Many of these gondolas have been traced to their destinations, but
in no case was there anything to justify suspicion. Happily, as long as
Mocenigo is in confinement, I feel that no actual harm will happen to
the girls; but the villain is as crafty as a fox, and may elude the
vigilance of the officer in charge of him. I am going to the council,
presently, to urge that he should be brought here as a prisoner; but
from what I hear there is little chance of the request being complied
with. His friends are already declaiming on the injustice of a man
being treated as a criminal, when there is no shadow of proof
forthcoming against him; and the disturbances last night have angered
many who have no great friendship for him, but who are indignant at the
attack of the populace upon the house of a noble. So you see that there
is but faint chance that they would bring him hither a prisoner."

"I think, sir, that were I in your case, I should put some trusty men
to watch round the house where he is confined; so that in case he
should escape the vigilance of his guards they might seize upon him.
Everything depends, as you say, upon his being kept in durance."

"I will do so, Francisco, at once. I will send to two of my officers at
the port, and tell them to pick out a dozen men on whom they can rely,
to proceed to Botonda, and to watch closely everyone who enters or
leaves the house, without at the same time making themselves
conspicuous. At any rate, they will be handy there in case Mocenigo's
friends attempt to rescue him by force, which might be done with
success, for the house he occupies stands at a short distance out of
the town, and the official in charge of Mocenigo has only eight men
with him.

"Yes, your advice is excellent, and I will follow it at once. Should
any other idea occur to you, pray let me know it immediately. You saved
my daughters once, and although I know there is no reason why it should
be so, still, I feel a sort of belief that you may, somehow, be
instrumental in their again being brought back to me."

"I will do my best, sir, you may depend upon it," Francis said
earnestly. "Were they my own sisters, I could not feel more strongly
interested in their behalf."

Francis spent the next week almost entirely in his gondola. Starting
soon after daybreak with Giuseppi, he would row across to the villages
on the mainland, and make inquiries of all sorts there; or would visit
the little groups of fishermen's huts, built here and there on posts
among the shallows. He would scan every house as he passed it, with the
vague hope that a face might appear at the window, or a hand be waved
for assistance. But, during all that time, he had found nothing which
seemed to offer the slightest clue, nor were the inquiries set on foot
by Signor Polani more successful. Every piece of information which
seemed to bear, in the slightest degree, upon the affair was
investigated, but in no case was it found of the slightest utility.

One evening he was returning late, tired by the long day's work, and
discouraged with his utter want of success, when, just as he had passed
under the Ponto Maggiore, the lights on the bridge fell on the faces of
the sitters in a gondola coming the other way. They were a man and a
woman. The latter was closely veiled. But the night was close and
oppressive, and, just at the moment when Francis' eyes fell upon her,
she lifted her veil for air. Francis recognized her instantly. For a
moment he stopped rowing, and then dipped his oar in as before.
Directly the other gondola passed through the bridge behind him, and
his own had got beyond the circle of light, he swept it suddenly round.

Giuseppi gave an exclamation of surprise.

"Giuseppi, we have luck at last. Did you notice that gondola we met
just now? The woman sitting in it is Castaldi, the woman who betrayed
the signoras."

"What shall we do, Messer Francisco?" Giuseppi, who had become almost
as interested in the search as his master, asked. "There was only a
single gondolier and one other man. If we take them by surprise we can
master them."

"That will not do, Giuseppi. The woman would refuse to speak, and
though they could force her to do so in the dungeons, the girls would
be sure to be removed the moment it was known she was captured. We must
follow them, and see where they go to. Let us get well behind them, so
that we can just make them out in the distance. If they have a
suspicion that they are being followed, they will land her at the first
steps and slip away from us."

"They are landing now, signor," Giuseppi exclaimed directly afterwards.
"Shall we push on and overtake them on shore?"

"It is too late, Giuseppi. They are a hundred and fifty yards away, and
would have mixed in the crowd, and be lost, long before we should get
ashore and follow them. Row on fast, but not over towards that side. If
the gondola moves off, we will make straight for the steps and try to
follow them, though our chance of hitting upon them in the narrow lanes
and turnings is slight indeed.

"But if, as I hope, the gondola stops at the steps, most likely they
will return to it in time. So we will row in to the bank a hundred
yards farther up the canal and wait."

The persons who had been seen in the gondola had disappeared when they
came abreast of it, and the gondolier had seated himself in the boat,
with the evident intention of waiting. Francis steered his gondola at a
distance of a few yards from it as he shot past, but did not abate his
speed, and continued to row till they were three or four hundred yards
farther up the canal. Then he turned the gondola, and paddled
noiselessly back until he could see the outline of the boat he was
watching.

An hour elapsed before any movement was visible. Then Francis heard the
sound of footsteps, and could just make out the figures of persons
descending the steps and entering the gondola. Then the boat moved out
into the middle of the canal, where a few boats were still passing to
and fro. Francis kept his gondola close by the bank, so as to be in the
deep shade of the houses. The boat they were following again passed
under the Ponto Maggiore, and for some distance followed the line of
the Grand Canal.

"Keep your eye upon it, Giuseppi. It is sure to turn off one way or the
other soon, and if it is too far ahead of us when it does so, then it
may give us the slip altogether."

But the gondola continued its course the whole length of the canal, and
then straight on until, nearly opposite Saint Mark's, it passed close
to a larger gondola, with four rowers, coming slowly in the other
direction; and it seemed to Francis that the two boats paused when
opposite each other, and that a few words were exchanged.

Then the boat they were watching turned out straight into the lagoon.
It was rather lighter here than in the canal, bordered on each side by
houses, and Francis did not turn the head of his gondola for a minute
or two.

"It will be very difficult to keep them in sight out here without their
making us out," Giuseppi said.

"Yes, and it is likely enough that they are only going out there in
order that they may be quite sure that they are not followed, before
striking off to the place they want to go to. They may possibly have
made us out, and guess that we are tracking them. They would be sure to
keep their eyes and ears open."

"I can only just make them out now, Messer Francisco, and as we shall
have the buildings behind us, they will not be able to see us as well
as we can see them. I think we can go now."

"We will risk it, at any rate, Giuseppi. I have lost sight of them
already, and it will never do to let them give us the slip."

They dipped their oars in the water, and the gondola darted out from
the shore. They had not gone fifty strokes when they heard the sound of
oars close at hand.

"To the right, Giuseppi, hard!" Francis cried as he glanced over his
shoulder.

A sweep with both oars brought the gondola's head, in a moment, almost
at right angles to the course that she had been pursuing; and the next
sent her dancing on a new line, just as a four-oared gondola swept down
upon them, missing their stern by only three or four feet. Had they
been less quick in turning, the iron prow would have cut right through
their light boat.

Giuseppi burst into a torrent of vituperation at the carelessness of
the gondoliers who had so nearly run into them, but Francis silenced
him at once.

"Row, Giuseppi. It was done on purpose. It is the gondola the other
spoke to."

Their assailant was turning also, and in a few seconds was in pursuit.
Francis understood it now. The gondola they had been following had
noticed them, and had informed their friends, waiting off Saint Mark's,
of the fact. Intent upon watching the receding boat, he had paid no
further attention to the four-oared craft, which had made a turn, and
lay waiting in readiness to run them down, should they follow in the
track of the other boat.

Francis soon saw that the craft behind them was a fast one, and rowed
by men who were first-rate gondoliers. Fast as his own boat was flying
through the water, the other gained upon them steadily. He was heading
now for the entrance to the Grand Canal, for their pursuer, in the
wider sweep he had made in turning, was nearer to the Piazza than they
were, and cut off their flight in that direction.

"Keep cool, Giuseppi," he said. "They will be up to us in a minute or
two. When their bow is within a yard or two of us, and I say, 'Now!'
sweep her head straight round towards the lagoon. We can turn quicker
than they can. Then let them gain upon us, and we will then turn
again."

The gondola in pursuit came up hand over hand. Francis kept looking
over his shoulder, and when he saw its bow gliding up within a few feet
of her stern he exclaimed "Now!" and, with a sudden turn, the gondola
again swept out seaward.

Their pursuer rushed on for a length or two before she could sweep
round, while a volley of imprecations and threats burst from three men
who were standing up in her with drawn swords. Francis and Giuseppi
were now rowing less strongly, and gaining breath for their next
effort. When the gondola again came up to them they swept round to the
left, and as their pursuers followed they headed for the Grand Canal.

"Make for the steps of Santa Maria church. We will jump out there and
trust to our feet."

The two lads put out all their strength now. They were some three
boats' lengths ahead before their pursuers were fairly on their track.
They were now rowing for life, for they knew that they could hardly
succeed in doubling again, and that the gondola behind them was so well
handled, that they could not gain on it at the turnings were they to
venture into the narrow channels. It was a question of speed alone, and
so hard did they row that the gondola in pursuit gained but slowly on
them, and they were still two lengths ahead when they dashed up to the
steps of the church.

Simultaneously they sprang on shore, leaped up the steps, and dashed
off at the top of their speed, hearing, as they did so, a crash as the
gondola ran into their light craft. There was a moment's delay, as the
men had to step across their boat to gain the shore, and they were
fifty yards ahead before they heard the sound of their pursuers' feet
on the stone steps; but they were lightly clad and shoeless, and
carried nothing to impede their movements, and they had therefore
little fear of being overtaken.

After racing on at the top of their speed for a few minutes, they
stopped and listened. The sound of their pursuers' footsteps died away
in the distance; and, after taking a few turns to put them off their
track, they pursued their way at a more leisurely pace.

"They have smashed the gondola," Giuseppi said with a sob, for he was
very proud of the light craft.

"Never mind the gondola," Francis said cheerfully. "If they had smashed
a hundred it would not matter."

"But the woman has got away and we have learned nothing," Giuseppi
said, surprised at his master's cheerfulness.

"I think we have learned something, Giuseppi. I think we have learned
everything. I have no doubt the girls are confined in that hut on San
Nicolo. I wonder I never thought of it before; but I made so sure that
they would be taken somewhere close to where Mocenigo was staying, that
it never occurred to me that they might hide them out there. I ought to
have known that that was just the thing they would do, for while the
search would be keen among the islets near the land, and the villages
there, no one would think of looking for them on the seaward islands.

"I have no doubt they are there now. That woman came ashore to report
to his friends, and that four-oared boat which has chased us was in
waiting off Saint Mark's, to attack any boat that might be following
them.

"We will go to Signor Polani at once and tell him what has happened. I
suppose it is about one o'clock now, but I have not noticed the hour.
It was past eleven before we first met the gondola, and we must have
been a good deal more than an hour lying there waiting for them."

A quarter of an hour's walking took them to the palazzo of Polani. They
rang twice at the bell at the land entrance, before a face appeared at
the little window of the door, and asked who was there.

"I wish to see Signor Polani at once," Francis said.

"The signor retired to rest an hour ago," the man said.

"Never mind that," Francis replied. "I am Francis Hammond, and I have
important news to give him."

As soon as the servitor recognized Francis' voice, he unbarred the
door.

"Have you news of the ladies?" he asked eagerly.

"I have news which will, I hope, lead to something," Francis replied.

A moment later the voice of Polani himself, who, although he had
retired to his room, had not yet gone to sleep, was heard at the top of
the grand stairs, inquiring who it was who had come so late; for
although men had been arriving all day, with reports from the various
islands and villages, he thought that no one would come at this hour
unless his news were important.

Francis at once answered:

"It is I, Signor Polani, Francis Hammond. I have news which I think may
be of importance, although I may be mistaken. Still, it is certainly
news that may lead to something."

The merchant hurried down.

"What is it, Francisco? What have you learned?"

"I have seen the woman Castaldi, and have followed her. I do not know
for certain where she was going, for we have been chased by a large
gondola, and have narrowly escaped with our lives. Still, I have a clue
to their whereabouts."

Francis then related the events of the evening.

"But why did you not run into the boat and give the alarm at once,
Francisco? Any gondolas passing would have given their assistance, when
you declared who she was, for the affair is the talk of the city. If
that woman were in our power we should soon find means to make her
speak."

"Yes, signor; but the moment she was known to be in your power, you may
be sure that they would remove your daughters from the place where they
have been hiding them. I thought, therefore, the best plan would be to
track them. No doubt we should have succeeded in doing so, had it not
been for the attack upon us by another gondola."

"You are right, no doubt, Francisco. Still, it is unfortunate, for I do
not see that we are now any nearer than we were before, except that we
know that this woman is in the habit of coming into the city."

"I think we are nearer, sir, for I had an adventure some time ago that
may afford a clue to their hiding place."

He then told the merchant how he had, one evening, taken a man out to
San Nicolo, and had discovered that a hut in that island was used as a
meeting place by various persons, among whom was Ruggiero Mocenigo.

"I might have thought of the place before, signor; but, in fact, it
never entered my mind. From the first, we considered it so certain that
the men who carried off your daughters would take them to some hiding
place where Mocenigo could speedily join them, that San Nicolo never
entered my mind. I own that it was very stupid, for it seems now to me
that the natural thing for them to do, would be to take them in the
very opposite direction to that in which the search for them would be
made."

The story had been frequently interrupted by exclamations of surprise
by Polani. At its conclusion, he laid his hand on Francis' shoulder.

"My dear boy," he said, "How can I thank you! You seem to me to be born
to be the preserver of my daughters. I cannot doubt that your suspicion
is correct, and that they are confined in this hut at San Nicolo. How
fortunate that you did not denounce this conspiracy--for conspiracy no
doubt it is--that you discovered, for, had you done so, some other
place would have been selected for the girls' prison."

"I would not be too sanguine, sir. The girls may not be in this hut,
still we may come on some clue there which may lead us to them. If not,
we will search the islands on that side as closely as we have done
those on the mainland."

"Now, shall I send for the gondoliers and set out at once? There are
ten or twelve men in the house, and it is hardly likely that they will
place a guard over them of anything like this strength, as of course
they will be anxious to avoid observation by the islanders."

"I do not think I would do anything tonight, sir," Francis said. "The
gondola that chased us will be on the alert. They cannot, of course,
suspect in the slightest that we have any clue to the hiding place of
your daughters. Still, they might think that, if we were really
pursuing the other gondola, and had recognized the woman Castaldi, we
might bring the news to you, and that a stir might be made. They may
therefore be watching to see if anything comes of it; and if they saw a
bustle and gondolas setting out taking the direction of the island,
they might set off and get there first, for it is a very fast craft,
and remove your daughters before we reach the hut.

"I should say wait till morning. They may be watching your house now,
and if, in an hour or two, they see all is quiet, they will no doubt
retire with the belief that all danger is at an end. Then, in the
morning, I would embark the men in two or three gondolas, but I would
not start from your own steps, for no doubt your house is watched. Let
the men go out singly, and embark at a distance from here, and not at
the same place. Once out upon the lagoon, they should row quietly
towards San Nicolo, keeping a considerable distance apart, the men
lying down in the bottom as the boats approach the island, so that if
anyone is on watch he will have no suspicion.

"As I am the only one that knows the position of the hut, I will be
with you in the first gondola. We will not land near the hut, but pass
by, and land at the other end of the island. The other gondolas will
slowly follow us, and land at the same spot. Then three or four men can
go along by the sea face, with orders to watch any boats hauled up upon
the shore there, and stop any party making down towards them. The rest
of us will walk straight to the hut, and, as it lies among sand hills,
I hope we shall be able to get quite close to it before our approach is
discovered."

"An excellent plan, Francisco, though I am so impatient that the night
will seem endless to me; but certainly your plan is the best. Even if
the house is watched, and you were seen to enter, if all remains
perfectly quiet they will naturally suppose that the news you brought
was not considered of sufficient importance to lead to any action. You
will, of course, remain here till morning?"

"I cannot do that, sir, though I will return the first thing. There is,
lying on my table, a paper with the particulars and names of the
persons I saw meet in this hut, and a request to my father that, if I
do not return in the morning, he will at once lay this before the
council. I place it there every day when I go out, in order that, if I
should be seized and carried off by Mocenigo's people, I should have
some means of forcing them to let me go.

"Although I know absolutely nothing of the nature of the conspiracy,
they will not know how much I am aware of, or what particulars I may
have given in the document; and as I could name to them those present,
and among them is the envoy of the King of Hungary, now in the city,
they would hardly dare harm me, when they knew that if they did so this
affair would be brought before the council."

"It was an excellent precaution, Francisco. Why, you are as prudent and
thoughtful as you are courageous!"

"It was not likely to be of much use, sir," Francis said modestly. "I
was very much more likely to get a stab in the back than to be carried
off. Still, it was just possible that Mocenigo might himself like to
see his vengeance carried out, and it was therefore worth my while
guarding against it. But, as you see, it will be necessary for me to be
back sometime before morning."

"At any rate, Francisco, you had better wait here until morning breaks.
Your room is not likely to be entered for some hours after that; so
while I am preparing for our expedition, you can go out and make your
way to the Grand Canal, hail an early gondola, and be put down at your
own steps, when, as you have told me, you can enter the house without
disturbing anyone. Then you can remove that paper, and return here in
the gondola. We will start at seven. There will be plenty of boats
about by that time, and the lagoon will be dotted by the fishermen's
craft, so that our gondolas will attract no attention."

"Perhaps that will be the best plan, signor; and, indeed, I should not
be sorry for a few hours' sleep, for Giuseppi and I have been in our
boat since a very early hour in the morning, and were pretty well tired
out before this last adventure began."



Chapter 6: The Hut On San Nicolo.


At seven o'clock all was in readiness for a start. Signor Polani set
out alone in his gondola, and picked up Francis, and four men, at a
secluded spot some distance from the house. A messenger had been sent,
two hours before, to the captain of one of the merchant ships lying in
the port. He at once put ten men into a large boat, and rowed down to
within half a mile of the island. Here a grapnel was thrown overboard,
most of the men lay down in the bottom, and the captain, according to
his instructions, kept a sharp lookout to see that no boat left San
Nicolo--his instructions being to overhaul any boat coming out, and to
see that no one was concealed on board it.

There he remained until Polani's gondola rowed past him. After it had
gone a few hundred yards, the grapnel was got up, the men took to their
oars and followed the gondola, keeping so far behind that it would not
seem there was any connection between them.

Francis made for the narrow channel which separated San Nicolo from the
next island, and then directed the gondola to be run ashore, where a
low sand hill, close by, hid them from the sight of anyone on the
lookout. A few minutes later the ship's boat arrived.

Francis now led the way direct for the hut, accompanied by Polani and
six men, while four sailors advanced, at a distance of a hundred yards
on either flank, to cut off anyone making for the water.

"We may as well go fast," he said, "for we can scarcely get there
without being seen by a lookout, should there be one on the sand hills,
and the distance is so short that there will be no possibility of their
carrying your daughters off, before we get there."

"The faster the better," the merchant said. "This suspense is
terrible."

Accordingly, the party started at a brisk run. Francis kept his eyes on
the spot where he believed the hut lay.

"I see no one anywhere near there," he said, as they came over one of
the sand ridges. "Had there been anyone on the watch I think we should
see him now."

On they ran, until, passing over one of the sand hills, Francis came to
a standstill. The hut lay in the hollow below them.

"There is the house, signor. Now we shall soon know."

They dashed down the short slope, and gathered round the door.

"Within there, open!" the merchant shouted, hammering with the hilt of
his sword on the door.

All was silent within.

"Break it down!" he said; and two of the sailors, who had brought axes
with them, began to hew away at the door.

A few blows, and it suddenly opened, and two men dressed as fishermen
appeared in the doorway.

"What means this attack upon the house of quiet people?" they demanded.

"Bind them securely," Polani said, as he rushed in, followed closely by
Francis, while those who followed seized the men.

Polani paused as he crossed the threshold, with a cry of
disappointment--the hut was empty. Francis was almost equally
disappointed.

"If they are not here, they are near by," Francis said to Polani. "Do
not give up hope. I am convinced they are not far off; and if we search
we may find a clue. Better keep your men outside. We can search more
thoroughly by ourselves."

The merchant told his men, who had seized and were binding the two
occupants of the hut, to remain outside. The inside of the hut differed
in no way from the ordinary dwelling of fishermen, except that a large
table stood in the middle of it, and there were some benches against
the walls. Some oars stood in one corner, and some nets were piled
close to them. A fire burned in the open hearth, and a pot hung over
it, and two others stood on the hearth.

"Let us see what they have got here," Francis said, while the merchant
leaned against the table with an air of profound depression, paying no
attention to what he was doing.

"A soup," Francis said, lifting the lid from the pot over the fire,
"and, by the smell, a good one."

Then he lifted the other pots simmering among the burning brands.

"A ragout of kid and a boiled fish. Signor Polani, this is no
fisherman's meal. Either these men expect visitors of a much higher
degree than themselves, or your daughters are somewhere close.

"Oh! there is a door."

"It can lead nowhere," Polani said. "The sand is piled up to the roof
on that side of the house."

"It is," Francis agreed; "but there may be a lower room there,
completely covered with the sand. At any rate, we will see."

He pushed against the door, but it did not give in the slightest.

"It may be the sand," he said. "It may be bolts."

He went to the outside door, and called in the sailors with the
hatchets.

"Break open that door," he said.

"There is a space behind," he exclaimed, as the first blow was given.
"It is hollow, I swear. It would be a different sound altogether if
sand was piled up against it."

A dozen blows and the fastenings gave, and, sword in hand, the merchant
and Francis rushed through.

Both gave a shout of delight. They were in a room built out at the back
of the hut. It was richly furnished, and hangings of Eastern stuffs
covered the walls. A burning lamp hung from the ceiling. Two men stood
irresolute with drawn swords, having apparently turned round just as
the door gave way; for as it did so, two figures struggled to their
feet from a couch behind them, for some shawls had been wrapped round
their heads, and with a cry of delight rushed forward to meet their
rescuers. Seated at the end of the couch, with bowed down head, was
another female figure.

"Maria--Giulia!" the merchant exclaimed, as, dropping his sword, he
clasped his daughters in his arms.

Francis, followed by the two sailors with hatchets, advanced towards
the men.

"Drop your swords and surrender," he said. "Resistance is useless.
There are a dozen men outside."

The men threw their swords down on the ground.

"Lead them outside, and bind them securely," Francis said.

For the next minute or two, few words were spoken. The girls sobbed
with delight on their father's breast, while he himself was too moved
to do more than murmur words of love and thankfulness. Francis went
quietly out and spoke to the captain, who went in to the inner room,
touched the sitting figure on the shoulder, and, taking her by the arm,
led her outside.

"Come in, Francis," Polani called a minute later.

"My dears, it is not me you must thank for your rescue. It is your
English friend here who has again restored you to me. It is to him we
owe our happiness, and that you, my child, are saved from the dreadful
fate of being forced to be the wife of that villain Mocenigo.

"Embrace him, my dears, as a brother, for he has done more than a
brother for you. And now tell me all that has happened since I last saw
you."

"You know, father, the message that was brought us, that you had been
hurt and wanted us home?"

"Yes, my dears, that I learned soon afterwards. I went at five o'clock
to fetch you home, and found that you had gone, and why."

"Well, father, directly we had taken our seats in the cabin of the
gondola, our gouvernante closed the doors, and soon afterwards she slid
to the two shutters before the windows. We cried out in surprise at
finding ourselves in the dark, but she bade us be quiet, in a tone
quite different to any in which she had ever spoken to us before. We
were both frightened, and tried to push back the shutters and open the
door, but they were fastened firmly. I suppose there was some spring
which held them. Then we screamed; but I could feel that the inside was
all thickly padded. I suppose our voices could not be heard outside. I
thought so, because once I thought I heard the gondoliers singing, but
it was so faint that I could not be sure. Then the air seemed
stiflingly close, and I fainted; and when I came to myself one of the
windows was open, and Giulia said she had promised we would not scream,
but I think we were beyond the canals then, for I could see nothing but
the sky as we passed along. When I was better the windows were almost
shut again, so that we could not see out, though a little air could get
in; then the gondola went on for a long time.

"At last it stopped, and she said we must be blindfolded. We said we
would not submit to it, and she told us unless we let her do it, the
men would do it. So we submitted, and she wrapped shawls closely over
our heads. Then we were helped ashore, and walked some distance. At
last the shawls were taken off our heads, and we found ourselves here,
and here we have been ever since."

"You have not been ill treated in any way, my children?" the merchant
asked anxiously.

"Not at all, father. Until today, nobody has been into this room
besides ourselves and that woman. The door was generally left a little
open for air, for you see there are no windows here. She used to go
into the next room and come back with our food. We could see men moving
about in there, but they were very quiet, and all spoke in low tones.

"You may think how we upbraided our gouvernante for her treachery, and
threatened her with your anger. She told us we should never be found,
and that I might as well make up my mind to marry Ruggiero Mocenigo,
for if I did not consent quietly, means would be found to compel me to
do so. I said I would die first, but she used to laugh a cruel laugh,
and say he would soon be here with the priest, and that it mattered not
whether I said yes or no. The ceremony would be performed, and then
Ruggiero would sail away with me to the East, and I should be glad
enough then to make peace between him and you. But he never came. I
think she became anxious, for she went away twice for three or four
hours, and locked us in here when she went.

"That, father, is all we know about it. Where are we?"

"You are at San Nicolo."

"On the island!" Maria exclaimed in surprise. "She told us we were on
the mainland. And now, how did you find us?"

"I will tell you as we go home, Maria."

"Yes, that will be better, father. Giulia and I long for a breath of
fresh air, and the sight of the blue sky."

"Giulia has not had so much to frighten her as you have," her father
said.

"Yes, I have, father; for she said I was to go across the seas with
Maria, and that Ruggiero would soon find a husband for me among his
friends. I told her she was a wicked woman, over and over again, and we
told her that we were sure you would forgive, and even reward her, if
she would take us back again to you. When she was away, we thought we
would try to make our escape behind, and we made a little hole in the
boards; but the sand came pouring in, and we found we were underground,
though how we got there we didn't know, for we had not come down any
steps. So we had to give up the idea of escape."

"You are partly underground," her father said, "for, as you will see
when you get out, the sand has drifted up at the back of the hut to the
roof, and has altogether hidden this part of the hut; so that we did
not know that there was more than one room, and I should never have
thought of breaking into that door, had it not been for Francisco. And
now come along, my dears. Let us wait here no longer."

The sailors and servitors broke into a cheer as the girls came out of
the hut.

"Shall we put a torch to this place?" Francis asked Polani.

"No, Francisco. It must be searched thoroughly first.

"Captain Lontano, do you order four of your men to remain here, until
some of the officials of the state arrive. If anyone comes before that,
they must seize them and detain them as prisoners. The state will
investigate the matter to the bottom."

Now that they were in the open air, the merchant could see that the
close confinement and anxiety had told greatly upon his daughters. Both
were pale and hollow eyed, and looked as if they had suffered a long
illness. Seeing how shaken they were, he ordered one of the retainers
to go to the gondola, and tell the men to row it round to the nearest
point to the hut. The party then walked along down to the shore.

In a few minutes the gondola arrived. Polani, his two daughters, and
Francis took their places in it. The four men, bound hand and foot,
were laid in the bottom of the ship's boat; the gouvernante was made to
take her place there also, and the sailors were told to follow closely
behind the gondola, which was rowed at a very slow pace.

On the way, Polani told his daughters of the manner in which Francis
had discovered the place of concealment.

"Had it not been for him, my dears, we should certainly not have found
you, and that villain would have carried out his plans, sooner or
later. He would either have given his guards the slip, or, when no
evidence was forthcoming against him, they would have been removed. He
would then have gone outside the jurisdiction of the republic, obtained
a ship with a crew of desperadoes, sailed round to the seaward side of
San Nicolo, and carried you off. Nothing could have saved you, and your
resistance would, as that woman told you, have been futile."

"We shall be grateful to you all our lives, Francisco," Maria said. "We
shall pray for you always, night and morning.

"Shall we not, Giulia?"

"Yes, indeed," the young girl said simply. "We shall love him all our
lives."

"Answer for yourself, Giulia," Maria said with a laugh, her spirits
returning in the bright sunshine and fresh air. "When Francisco asks
for my love, it will be quite soon enough to say what I think about
it."

"I should never have courage enough to do that, signora. I know what
you would say too well."

"What should I say?" Maria asked.

"You would say I was an impudent boy."

Maria laughed.

"I cannot think of you as a boy any longer, Francisco," she said more
gravely. "I have, perhaps, regarded you as a boy till now, though you
did save us so bravely before; but you see you are only my own age, and
a girl always looks upon a boy of her own age as ever so much younger
than she is herself. Besides, too, you have none of the airs of being a
man, which some of my cousins have; and never pay compliments or say
pretty things, but seem altogether like a younger brother. But I shall
think you a boy no more. I know you better now."

"But I am a boy," Francis said, "and I don't want to be thought
anything else. In England we keep young longer than they do here, and a
boy of my age would not think of speaking to his elders, unless he was
first addressed.

"What are you going to do with your prisoners, signor?"

"I shall take them direct to my house, and then go and report the
recovery of my daughters, and their capture. Officials will at once be
sent, with a gondola, to take them off to the prison. There can be no
question now as to the part Mocenigo has played in this business, and
no doubt he will be brought here a prisoner at once. Even his nearest
connections will not dare to defend conduct so outrageous, especially
when public indignation has been so excited.

"You do not know, girls, what a stir has been caused in the city on
your account. If it had not been for the citizen guard, I believe the
Mocenigo Palace would have been burned down; and Ruggiero's connections
have scarcely dared to show their faces in the streets, since you have
been missing. You see, every father of a family felt personally
grieved, for if the nobles were permitted, with impunity, to carry off
the daughters of citizens, who could feel safe?

"When this is all over I shall take you, for a time, back to our home
in Corfu. It is not good for girls to be the subject of public talk and
attention."

"I shall be very glad, father," Giulia said. "I love our home at Corfu,
with its gardens and flowers, far better than the palazzo here. The air
is always soft and balmy, while here it is so hot sometimes by day, and
so damp and foggy in the evening. I shall be glad to go back again."

"And you, Maria?"

"I shall be very happy there, father, but I like Venice best."

"You are getting to an age to enjoy gaiety, Maria; and it is natural
you should do so. However, it will not be necessary for you to be long
absent. In a city like Venice there are always fresh subjects for talk,
and the most exciting piece of scandal is but a three days' wonder. A
few weeks at Corfu will restore your nerves, which cannot but have been
shaken by what you have gone through, and you will come back here more
disposed than ever to appreciate the gaieties of Venice."

"As long as it is for only a few weeks, father, I shall not care; for
you know I am very fond, too, of our beautiful home there. Still, I do
like Venice."

They had now reached the steps of the Palazzo Polani. They had not
proceeded by way of the Grand Canal, as the merchant was anxious that
his daughters should reach their home unrecognized, as, had they been
noticed, it would have given rise to no little excitement, and they had
had more than enough of this, and needed quiet and repose. Besides,
until the prisoners were in the safe custody of the officials of the
state, it was in every way desirable that the events of the morning
should remain unknown.

Their return home created quite a tumult of joy in the house. The
preparations that had been made had been kept a profound secret, as the
merchant could not be sure but that some other member of his household
was in the pay of Mocenigo. Thus, until the girls alighted at the
steps, none in the house were aware that any clue had been obtained as
to their hiding place. The women ran down with cries of joy. The men
would have shouted and cheered, had not Polani held up his hand.

"The signoras have had more than enough excitement," he said. "They are
grateful to you for your goodwill and affection, but for the present
they need quiet. They may have more to go through today. I pray you
that no word, as to their return, be said outside the house. I would
not that the news were whispered in the city, till the seignory decide
what is to be done in the matter."

As soon as the girls had gone upstairs to their rooms, the ship's boat
came alongside, and the prisoners were carried into the house, glances
of indignation and anger being cast at the gouvernante, who had, as
soon as she was placed on board the boat, closely veiled herself; and
some of the women broke out into threats and imprecations.

"Captain Lontano, the servants will show you a room where your men can
guard the prisoners. You had better remain with them yourself. Let no
one, except your own men, enter the room."

Giuseppi was on the steps, and Francis stepped up to him and eagerly
asked, "What news of the gondola?"

"I found her, stove in and full of water, behind the piles close to the
steps. Someone must have pushed her there, to be out of the way of the
traffic. She has several holes in her bottom, besides being stove in at
the gunwale where the other boat struck her. They must have thrust the
ends of their oars through her planks, out of sheer spite, when they
found that we had escaped them. Father and I have towed her round to
your steps, but I doubt whether she is worth repairing."

"Well, we can't help it, Giuseppi. She has done her work; and if every
two ducats I lay out were to bring in as good a harvest, I should have
no reason to complain."

Having seen the prisoners safely placed, the merchant returned.

"I think, Francisco, you must go with me. They will be sure to want to
question you."

"I shall have to say what were my reasons for thinking your daughters
were hid in that hut, signor," Francis said as the gondola rowed
towards Saint Mark's; "and I can only do that by telling of that secret
meeting. I do not want to denounce a number of people, besides
Ruggiero. I have no evidence against them, and do not know what they
were plotting, nor have I any wish to create for myself more enemies.
It is quite enough to have incurred the enmity of all the connections
of the house of Mocenigo."

"That is true enough, Francisco, but I do not see how it is to be
avoided. Unfortunately, you did recognize others besides Ruggiero."

"Quite so, signor, and I am not going to tell a lie about it, whatever
the consequences may be. Still, I wish I could get out of it."

"I wish you could, Francis, but I do not see any escape for it,
especially as you say you did not recognize Ruggiero as the passenger
you carried."

"No, signor, I did not. It might have been he, but I cannot say. He was
wrapped in a cloak, and I did not see his features."

"It is a pity, Francisco, for had you known him, the statement that,
moved by curiosity, you followed him and saw him into that hut, would
have been sufficient without your entering into the other matter. Most
of my countrymen would not hesitate about telling a lie, to avoid
mixing themselves up further in such a matter, for the dangers of
making enemies are thoroughly appreciated here; but you are perfectly
right, and I like your steady love of the truth, whatever the
consequences to yourself; but certainly as soon as the matter is
concluded, it will be better for you to quit Venice for a time."

"Are you going to the council direct, signor?"

"No. I am going first to the magistrates, to tell them that I have in
my hands five persons, who have been engaged in carrying off my
daughters, and beg them to send at once to take them into their
custody. Then I shall go before the council, and demand justice upon
Mocenigo, against whom we have now conclusive evidence. You will not be
wanted at the magistracy. My own evidence, that I found them keeping
guard over my daughters, will be quite sufficient for the present, and
after that the girls' evidence will be sufficient to convict them,
without your name appearing in the affair at all.

"I will try whether I cannot keep your name from appearing before the
council also. Yes, I think I might do that; and as a first step, I give
you my promise not to name you, unless I find it absolutely necessary.
You may as well remain here in the gondola until I return."

It was upwards of an hour before Signor Polani came back to the boat.

"I have succeeded," he said, "in keeping your name out of it. I first
of all told my daughters' story, and then said that, having obtained
information that Ruggiero, before he was banished from Venice, was in
the habit of going sometimes at night to a hut on San Nicolo, I
proceeded thither, and found my daughters concealed in the hut whose
position had been described to me. Of course, they inquired where I had
obtained the information; but I replied that, as they knew, I had
offered a large reward which would lead to my daughters' discovery, and
that this reward had attracted one in the secret of Mocenigo, but that,
for the man's own safety, I had been compelled to promise that I would
not divulge his name.

"Some of the council were inclined to insist, but others pointed out
that, for the ends of justice, it mattered in no way how I obtained the
information. I had, at any rate, gone to the island and found my
daughters there; and their evidence, if it was in accordance with what
I had stated, was amply sufficient to bring the guilt of the abduction
of my daughters home to Ruggiero, against whom other circumstances had
already excited suspicion. A galley has already started for the
mainland, with orders to bring him back a prisoner, and the girls are
to appear to give evidence tomorrow. The woman, Castaldi, is to be
interrogated by the council this afternoon, and I have no doubt she
will make a full confession, seeing that my daughters' evidence is, in
itself, sufficient to prove her guilt, and that it can be proved, from
other sources, that it was she who inveigled them away by a false
message from me."

"I am glad indeed, signor, that I am not to be called, and that this
affair of the conspiracy is not to be brought up. I would, with your
permission, now return home. Giuseppi took a message to my father from
me, the first thing, explaining my absence; and I told him, when we
left your house, to go at once to tell him that your daughters had been
recovered, and that I should return before long. Still, he will want to
hear from me as to the events of the night."

"Will you also tell him, Francisco, that I will call upon him this
afternoon. I have much to say to him."

"I am glad Signor Polani is coming," Mr. Hammond said, when his son
gave him the message. "I am quite resolved that you shall quit Venice
at once. I do not wish to blame you for what you have done, which,
indeed, is likely to have a favourable effect upon your fortunes; but
that, at your age, you have mixed yourself up in adventures of this
kind, taken part in the affairs of great houses, and drawn upon
yourself the enmity of one of the most powerful families of Venice, is
altogether strange and improper for a lad of your years, and belonging
to the family of a quiet trader. I have been thinking about it all this
morning, and am quite resolved that the sooner you are out of Venice
the better. If I saw any way of sending you off before nightfall I
would do so.

"Signor Polani has, you say, so far concealed from the council the fact
that you have been mixed up in this business; but there is no saying
how soon it may come out. You know that Venice swarms with spies, and
these are likely, before many hours, to learn the fact of your midnight
arrival at Polani's house; and as no orders were given for the
preparation of this expedition to the island before that time, it will
not need much penetration to conclude that you were the bearer of the
news that led to the discovery of the maidens. Besides which, you
accompanied the expedition, and acted as its guide to the hut. Part of
this they will learn from the servants of the house, part of it they
may get out from the sailors, who, over their wine cups, are not given
to reticence. The council may not have pressed Polani on this point,
but, take my word for it, some of them, at least, will endeavour to get
to the bottom of it, especially Mocenigo's connections, who will
naturally be alarmed at the thought that there is somewhere a traitor
among their own ranks.

"The affair has become very serious, Francis, and far beyond the
compass of a boyish scrape, and no time must be lost in getting you out
of Venice. I have no doubt Polani will see the matter in the same
light, for he knows the ways of his countrymen even better than I do."

The interview between the two traders was a long one. At its conclusion
Francis was sent for.

"Francis," his father said, "Signor Polani has had the kindness to make
me offers of a most generous nature."

"Not at all, Messer Hammond," the Venetian interrupted. "Let there be
no mistake upon that score. Your son has rendered me services
impossible for me ever to repay adequately. He has laid me under an
obligation greater than I can ever discharge. At the same time,
fortunately, I am in a position to be able to further his interests in
life.

"I have proposed, Francisco, that you shall enter my house at once. You
will, of course, for some years learn the business, but you will do so
in the position which a son of mine would occupy, and when you come of
age, you will take your place as a partner with me.

"Your father will return to England. He informs me that he is now
longing to return to his own country, and has for some time been
thinking of doing so. I have proposed to him that he shall act as my
agent there. Hitherto I have not traded direct with England; in future
I shall do so largely. Your father has explained to me somewhat of his
transactions, and I see there is good profit to be made on trade with
London, by a merchant who has the advantage of the advice and
assistance of one, like your father, thoroughly conversant in the
trade. Thus, I hope that the arrangement will be largely to our mutual
advantage. As to yourself, you will probably be reluctant to establish
yourself for life in this country; but there is no reason why, in time,
when your father wishes to retire from business, you should not
establish yourself in London, in charge of the English branch of our
house."

"I am most grateful to you for your offer, signor, which is vastly
beyond anything that my ambition could ever have aspired to. I can only
say that I will try my best to do justice to your kindness to me."

"I have no fear as to that, Francisco," the merchant said. "You have
shown so much thoughtfulness, in this business, that I shall have no
fear of entrusting even weighty affairs of business in your hands; and
you must remember always that I shall still consider myself your
debtor. I thoroughly agree with your father's views as to the necessity
for your leaving Venice, as soon as possible. In a few months this
matter will have blown over, the angry feelings excited will calm down,
and you will then be able to come and go in safety; but at present you
were best out of the town, and I have, therefore, arranged with your
father that you shall embark tonight on board the Bonito, which sails
tomorrow. You will have much to say to your father now, but I hope you
will find time to come round, and say goodbye to my daughters, this
evening."

"Your adventures, Francis," Mr. Hammond said when the merchant had left
them, "have turned out fortunate, indeed. You have an opening now
beyond anything we could have hoped for. Signor Polani has expressed
himself most warmly. He told me that I need concern myself no further
with your future, for that would now be his affair. The arrangement
that he has made with me, will enable me to hold my head as high as any
in the City, for it will give me almost a monopoly of the Venetian
trade; and although he said that he had long been thinking of entering
into trade direct with England, there is no doubt that it is his
feeling towards you, which has influenced him now in the matter.

"My business here has more than answered my expectations, in one
respect, but has fallen short in another. I have bought cheaply, and
the business should have been a very profitable one; but my partner in
London is either not acting fairly by me, or he is mismanaging matters
altogether. This offer, then, of Signor Polani is in every respect
acceptable. I shall give up my own business and start anew, and
selling, as I shall, on commission, shall run no risk, while the
profits will be far larger than I could myself make, for Polani will
carry it on on a great scale.

"As for you, you will soon learn the ways of trade, and will be able to
come home and join me, and eventually succeed me in the business.

"No fairer prospect could well open to a young man, and if you show
yourself as keen in business, as you have been energetic in the
pursuits you have adopted, assuredly a great future is open to you, and
you may look to be one of the greatest merchants in the city of London.
I know not yet what offers Polani may make you here, but I hope that
you will not settle in Venice permanently, but will always remember
that you are an Englishman, and the son of a London citizen, and that
you will never lose your love for your native land.

"And yet, do not hurry home for my sake. Your two brothers will soon
have finished their schooling, and will, of course, be apprenticed to
me as soon as I return; and if, as I hope, they turn out steady and
industrious; they will, by the time they come to man's estate, be of
great assistance to me in the business.

"And now, you will be wanting to say goodbye to your friends. Be
careful this last evening, for it is just when you are thinking most of
other matters, that sudden misfortune is likely to come upon you."

Delighted with his good fortune--rather because it opened up a life of
activity, instead of the confinement to business that he had dreaded,
than for the pecuniary advantages it offered--Francis ran downstairs
and, leaping into his father's gondola, told Beppo to take him to the
Palazzo Giustiniani. On the way he told Beppo and his son that the next
day he was leaving Venice, and was going to enter the service of Signor
Polani.

Giuseppi ceased rowing, and, throwing himself down at the bottom of the
gondola, began to sob violently, with the abandonment to his emotions
common to his race. Then he suddenly sat up.

"If you are going, I will go too, Messer Francisco. You will want a
servant who will be faithful to you. I will ask the padrone to let me
go with you.

"You will let me go, will you not, father? I cannot leave our young
master, and should pine away, were I obliged to stop here to work a
gondola; while he may be wanting my help, for Messer Francisco is sure
to get into adventures and dangers. Has he not done it here in Venice?
and is he not sure to do it at sea, where there are Genoese and
pirates, and perils of all kinds?

"You will take me with you, will you not, Messer Francisco? You will
never be so hard hearted as to go away and leave me behind?"

"I shall be very glad to have you with me, Giuseppi, if your father
will give you leave to go. I am quite sure that Signor Polani will make
no objection. In the first place, he would do it to oblige me, and in
the second, I know that it is his intention to do something to your
advantage. He has spoken to me about it several times, for you had your
share of the danger when we first rescued his daughters, and again when
we were chased by that four-oared gondola. He has been too busy with
the search for his daughters to give the matter his attention, but I
know that he is conscious of his obligation to you, and that he intends
to reward you largely. Therefore, I am sure that he will offer no
objection to your accompanying me.

"What do you say, Beppo?"

"I do not like to stand in the way of the lad's wishes, Messer
Francisco; but, you see, he is of an age now to be very useful to me.
If Giuseppi leaves me, I shall have to hire another hand for the
gondola, or to take a partner."

"Well, we will talk it over presently," Francis said. "Here we are at
the steps of the palazzo, and here comes Matteo himself. It is lucky I
was not five minutes later, or I should have missed him."



Chapter 7: On Board A Trader.


"Have you heard the news, Francisco? My cousins are rescued! I have
been out this morning and have only just heard it, and I was on the
point of starting to tell you."

"Your news is old, Matteo. I knew it hours ago."

"And I hear," Matteo went on, "that Polani found them in a hut on San
Nicolo. My father cannot think how he came to hear of their hiding
place. He says Polani would not say how he learned the news. My father
supposes he heard it from some member of Ruggiero's household."

Francis hesitated for a moment. He had at first been on the point of
telling Matteo of the share he had had in the recovery of the girls;
but he thought that although his friend could be trusted not to repeat
the news wilfully, he might accidentally say something which would lead
to the fact being known, and that as Polani had strongly enjoined the
necessity of keeping the secret, and had himself declined to mention,
even to the council, the source from which he obtained his information,
he would look upon him as a babbler, and unworthy of trust, did he find
that Matteo had been let into the secret.

"It does not much matter who it is Polani learned the news from. The
great point is, he has found his daughters safe from all injury, and I
hear has brought back with him the woman who betrayed them. It is
fortunate indeed that he took such prompt measures with Ruggiero, and
thus prevented his escaping from the mainland, and making off with the
girls, as of course he intended to do."

"My father tells me," Matteo said, "that a state gondola has already
been dispatched to bring Ruggiero a prisoner here, and that even his
powerful connections will not save him from severe punishment, for
public indignation is so great at the attempt, that his friends will
not venture to plead on his behalf."

"And now I have my bit of news to tell you, Matteo. Signor Polani has
most generously offered me a position in his house, and I am to sail
tomorrow in one of his ships for the East."

"I congratulate you, Francisco, for I know, from what you have often
said, that you would like this much better than going back to England.
But it seems very sudden. You did not know anything about it yesterday,
and now you are going to start at once. Why, when can it have been
settled? Polani has been absent since daybreak, engaged in this matter
of the girls, and has been occupied ever since with the council."

"I have seen him since he returned," Francis replied; "and though it
was only absolutely settled this morn

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