They did not go up on deck again after dinner, but sat chatting in the saloon until nine o’clock, when Frank said that he could keep his eyes open no longer. After allowing him time to get into his berth, Rubini came in, took off his coat and waistcoat, pulled the mattress and bedding from the other bunk, and lay down on it with his head close to the door.
“Will you take one of my pistols, Rubini?” for by this time they called each other simply by their surnames.
“No, thank you; if the scoundrel tries to open the door and finds that he cannot do so, you may be sure that he will move off at once. He has been taught that you are handy with your weapons.”
Frank was sleeping soundly when he was woke by Rubini’s sharp challenge, “Who goes there?” It was pitch dark, and he was about to leap from his bunk, when Rubini said,—
“It is no use getting up. By the time I got this bed away and opened the door, the fellow would be at the other end of the boat. We may as well lie quiet. He is not likely to try again; and, indeed, I should not care about going outside the door, for it is pitch dark, and he might at the present moment be crouching outside in readiness to stab you as you came out. However, he is more likely to be gone now, for directly he heard us talking he would know that his game was up.” He struck a match. “It is just two o’clock,” he said; “we may as well have four hours’ more sleep.”
In a few minutes Frank was sound asleep again, and when he awoke it was daylight. Looking at the watch, he found that it was seven o’clock. “Seven o’clock, Rubini!” he said.
The Italian sat up and stretched his arms and yawned. “I have had a capital night. However, it is time to get up; we must turn out at once. We can’t be far from Genoa now; we are due there at eight o’clock, so we shall just have comfortable time for a wash and a cup of coffee before going ashore.”
Frank dressed hastily, and then ran up on deck, where he stood admiring the splendid coast, and the town of Genoa climbing up the hill, with its churches, campaniles, and its suburbs embedded in foliage. They were just entering the port when Maffio came up to him.
“Coffee is ready,” he said. “You had better come down and take it while it is hot. We shall have the custom-house officers off before we land, so there is no hurry.”
After making a meal on coffee with an abundance of milk, rolls and butter, Frank went up again. He then, at the advice of Rubini, drew the charges of his pistols and placed them in his portmanteau.