At daybreak help came from the shore.
"The ship is very much damaged," said the captain, "and so is the cargo, doubtless; but, at least, there are no lives lost," added he, looking round.
A few moments afterwards, the boatswain, wanting something, called Gennaro, but no answer came. He called again and again, cursed his canine breed, but with no better success.
"Where is Gennaro?" asked the captain.
The youth was sought down below, but he was nowhere to be found. All the men of the crew looked at one another enquiringly, and at last the questions that everyone was afraid to ask were uttered.
Had the youth been swept away by one of the huge breakers that washed over the deck? Had he been killed by the falling mast, or blown into the deep by a sudden and unexpected gust of wind? No one had seen him disappear; all looked around, expecting to see the handsome face of the youth they loved so well rising above the waves; but the green waters kept their secret. After that, all eyes turned towards Vranic, as if asking for an answer.
"The last time I saw the youth was when he was working at the pumps by me, just before the mast came down."
They all muttered some oath, unintelligible to him, and then a prayer for the youth. After that Vranic was only too glad to leave the ship, for every man on board seemed to look upon him as the cause of Gennaro's mysterious disappearance.
Having remained a week in Naples, seeing his money, the only thing he loved, dwindle away, Vranic did his best to find some employment. He for a few days got a living as a porter, helping to unload sacks from an English ship. Still, that was but a very precarious living, and he decided to follow a seafaring life, not because he was fond of it, but only to keep clear from his enemies and the laws of his country, and the vampire that had haunted him there every night.
He happened to find employment, as cook, on the very ship he had helped to discharge. It was an English schooner, bound for Glasgow. The captain, a crusty old bachelor, was a real hermit-crab; the men, a most ruffianly set. Vranic, being hardly able to speak with anyone, indulged in his morose way of living, and, except for being kicked about every now and then, he was left very much to himself.