The house was very still as she crept downstairs and out into the garden. The stars were out and it was an easy matter to find her way. She ran until she reached the path that led to the shore, then she moved very cautiously. She hoped to reach the guard, tell him what she had heard, and then go home, but when she reached the beach she realized that she was too late.
There was no guard in sight, but her ears detected the splash of oars, and she knew that the boatman was coming. She crouched down beside the wall and waited. She watched him pull his boat up on shore and then walk swiftly off in the opposite direction from her.
She did not know what to do, and she was frightened—badly frightened. The broad shining water on one side and the hill on the other seemed to hem her in, and she felt lost. It was not like the mountains of Cellino, where she knew every path.
She crouched down by the wall and waited. Another figure joined the boatman, and they stood still, a little farther up the beach. Lucia knew it was the man she had seen that afternoon, and she knew too that in a very few seconds they would turn around and come back to the boat.
With a courage born of fear she jumped up and before she quite realized what she was doing she was tugging at the boat.
It was not very high up on the beach for the boatman had left it so that it would be easily shoved off. Fortunately the tide was going out. Lucia's arms were strong and she pushed with a will. The boat found the water and drifted silently away.
Her feet were wet, but she did not realize it. She crept back to the beach and flattened herself against the wall. The men returned. They too kept in the shadow of the wall. It was not until they were almost brushing against Lucia that the boatman noticed that his boat was gone.
"The Saints preserve us!" he exclaimed. "It has been spirited away. I knew I should be punished for doing such a black deed."
"Spirits, nonsense!" the man spoke angrily. "It is your own stupid carelessness, you did not pull it up on shore far enough. You rattlebrain idiot, I've a good mind to kill you for this. See, there is your boat out there—empty—go and get it. Do you hear?"
"But how?" the boatman wrung his hands desperately. "I do not know how to swim. I will die. Santa Lucia, Saint of sailormen, spare me," he screamed as the man lifted his heavy cane to strike him.