“I will,” answered Decatur, “and I warrant it is something ten times more difficult, more desperate, than what I shall attempt; for, when it comes to taking chances, I know of no man who takes such odds as you, Dick Somers, for all your long face and continual preaching to me.”
The ships were to remain at Syracuse all winter. Meanwhile every effort was made to communicate with Captain Bainbridge and his officers imprisoned at Tripoli. A large reward was offered for the conveyance of letters to and from the prisoners, and two letters were thus conveyed to Captain Bainbridge, and answers received.
One afternoon, as Decatur and Somers were strolling along a mountain path that led to the famed fountain of Cyane, above the city, a man wearing the costume of a Sicilian peasant came up to them, and, touching his cap, said, in the lingua franca which both Somers and Decatur understood:
“Signors, are you not American naval officers?”
“Yes,” answered Decatur, while Somers eyed the man closely.
“Then I have a communication for you from the American captain now held at Tripoli.”
“Give it to us, then,” said Decatur.
“It is not here,” answered the man, with a sly look. “But if you will come to-night, at nine o’clock, to the tavern of the Three Doves, up a little higher beyond the fountain of Cyane, I will introduce you to a pilot, brother of Salvatore Catalano, who is employed by the American squadron. This other Catalano is a pilot too, and, wishing to oblige the Americans, as you have taken his brother into your service, he managed to communicate with the American captain. He has a letter for you, from him, and he will bring it to the Three Doves to-night, at eight. Shall I tell him you will be there?”
“Certainly, without fail!” replied Decatur.
The Sicilian then touched his cap again, and disappeared in a path by the side of the mountain road.