“That, sirs, is all my story, except that by the help of the General’s pass we made our way up the long length of Cape Corso:  and at first Sir John, learning there were yet some Genoese left in a valley they call Luri, pitched his camp at the head of it, and day by day took out his camp-stool and stalked the mountains till little by little he cleared the valley, driving the enemy down to the marina in terror of his sharp-shooting.  After that we lodged for a while in a tower on the top of a crag, where (the country people said) a famous old Roman had once lived out his exile.  Last of all we moved to the shore opposite the island of Giraglia; but the Genoese had burnt the village which stood there.  Among the ruins we camped, and day after day my master conned the island across the strait, waiting for the time when the Gauntlet should be due.  A tower stands in the island, which is but a cliff of bare rock; and there must be deep water close inshore, for once a Genoese vessel drew alongside and landed stores:  but, for the rest, day after day, my master could see through his glass no sign of life but a sentry or two on the platform above the landing-quay.

“At last there came a day when, from a goatherd who brought us meat and wine from the next paese, we learned that a body of armed men, Corsicans, had pushed up to Olmeta, near by Nonza, to press the Genoese garrison there.  Sir John, sick of waiting idle, proposed that we should travel back and help them, if only to fill up the time.  It would be on our way, at any rate, to send word to the ketch, which was near-about due.  So we travelled back to Olmeta; and behold, we tumbled upon the Princess and her men who had first taken us prisoners; and the Princess’s brother with her—­and be dashed if I like his looks!  So Sir John told his tale, and the Princess sent me along with Master Prosper’s letter of release.  And here’s a funny thing now!” wound up Billy, glancing at me.  “The Prince was willing enough your release should be sent, and even chose out that fellow Stephanu to come along with me.  But something in his eye—­I can’t azackly describe it—­warned me he had a sort of reason for thinking that ’twouldn’t do you much good.  There was a priest, too:  I took a notion that he didn’t much expect to see you again, sir.  And this kept me in a sweat every mile of the journey, so that when you pointed your gun at me yesterday, as natural as life, you might have knocked me down with a feather.”

“Then it is settled,” decided my uncle, as Billy came to a full stop.  “Sir John has gone north again, you say, and will be expecting us off the island?  There’s naught to prevent our starting this evening?”

“Nothing at all,” agreed Captain Pomery, to whom by a glance he had appealed.  “Leastways and supposing I can get my hawsers out of curl-papers.”

“That suits you, Prosper?” asked my uncle.  I looked across the fire at Marc’antonio, who sat with his eyes lowered upon the gun across his knees.