CHAPTER XII
MARGARET OF LOPUD
Though the pobratim would have sailed with any ship rather than with the ill-fated green caique, still Uros had pledged his word to the Greek captain to go with him as far as Zara or Trieste, and, moreover, there was no other vessel sailing just then for either of these ports, and they were both anxious to catch up with the Spera in Dio without further delay. The Greek captain, likewise—out of a kind of superstitious dread—would have preferred any other sailors to these two young men; still, as Dalmatians only sail with their own fellow-countrymen and never on Greek crafts, it was no easy matter to find two able-bodied men to go only for a short trip, for those were times when sailors were not as plentiful, nor ships so scarce, as they are now.
On the day after the one on which Milenko was set free, the pobratim set sail with the little caique, and they, as well as the captain, were thoroughly glad to shake the dust off their shoes on leaving Gravosa; Milenko especially hoped never to set his foot in Ragusa again.
The fresh breeze swelled out the broad white sails of the graceful little ship, which flew as fleetly as a halcyon, steered, as it was, with utmost care, in and out the narrow channels and through that archipelago of volcanic rocks which surround the Elaphite Islands, so dangerous to seamen. It soon left far behind the graceful mimosas, the dark cypress-trees and the feathery palms of the Ragusean coast.
After all the anxiety of the last days it was pleasant to be again on those blue waters, so limpid that the red fretted weeds could be seen growing on the grey rocks several fathoms below. It was a delight to breathe the balmy air, wafted across that little scented garden of La Croma. The world looked once more so beautiful, and life was again a pleasure. The sufferings the pobratim had undergone only served to render them fonder of each other, so that if they had been twins—not only brothers—they could not have loved each other more than they did.
The sun went down, and soon afterwards the golden bow of the new moon was seen floating in the hyacinthine sky. At the sight of that slender aureate crescent—which always awakens in the mind of man a vision of a chaste and graceful maiden—all the crew crossed themselves and were happy to think that the past was dead and gone, for the new moon brings new fortune to mortals.
A frugal supper of salted cheese, fruit and olives gathered all the men together, and then those who were not keeping watch were about to retire, when a small fishing-boat with a lighted torch at its prow was seen not very far off. As it came nearer to them the light went out, and the dark boat, with two gaunt figures at the oars, was seen for an instant wrapped in a funereal darkness, and then all vanished. The pobratim crossed themselves, shuddering, and Milenko whispered something to Uros in Slav, who nodded without speaking.
"What is it?" asked the captain, astonished.
"It is the phantom fishing-boat," replied Uros, almost below his breath, apparently unwilling to utter these words, and Milenko added: