Immediately a dozen soldiers came running to the spot. They surrounded the irate English traveller. He was ordered to “Throw up your hands!”
“You air one mad Englishmana!” said the Officer of the Guard. “Here. Comea weeth usa! We weel feexa youa!”
Seeing that the odds were too much against him, Captain Wright allowed himself to be taken to the guard house, while a soldier was dispatched to the British Ambassador in order to explain that “they had captured an Englishman as mad as a mad dog!”
Things looked bad for the great privateersman. But was his name not Fortunatus? And was not good fortune always with him?
A nobleman to whom the bold mariner had a letter now intervened in his favor, and secured the release of the high-tempered man-of-the-sea. On the morning of the fourth day of his captivity, and at the early hour of four, a soldier waked Captain Fortunatus Wright, who was peacefully sleeping at a military prison. A missive was handed him, and he read:
“Seigneur Wright:—Since you have been so daring as to attempt to enter the town of Lucca by force, it is therefore ordered that you shall now leave the State and never presume to enter it again, without leave from the Republic. Post-horses, with a guard to see you over the border, are now ready for you. We trust that you shall have a safe journey.
“By order of the
“Governor of Lucca.”
“These Italians are the most unreasonable people alive,” growled Captain Wright. But he pocketed both his pride and his pistols, entered the post-chaise at the door, and was soon rolling forth for other parts. In spite of this order—he continued to reside in Italy, with the true independence of a privateersman.
In December, 1746, the bold seafarer made an exceptionally good capture: a French vessel on a voyage from Marseilles to Naples, with a rich cargo and the servants and luggage of a real potentate,—the Prince of Campo Florida.
When valorous Wright stepped aboard of her, her captain was scraping and bowing near the rail.