From Glasgow the schooner sailed for Genoa, where she arrived just as the Giustizia di Dio was about to set sail. The two ships came so close together that Vranic, who kept a sharp look-out whenever he saw an Austrian flag, recognised Milenko standing on the deck and ordering some manoeuvres.
Although the young man could not perceive him, hidden as he was in the darkness of the galley, and bending over the stove, still Vranic felt a shock that for a few moments almost deprived him of his senses, and made him feel quite sick.
That day the dinner was quite a failure. The roast was burnt; the potatoes, instead, were raw; the cauliflower was uneatable, and salt had been put in the pudding instead of sugar.
If there is anything trying to human patience, it is a spoilt dinner, especially the first one gets in port. It is, therefore, not to be wondered at that the captain, never very forbearing at the best of times, got so angry that he kicked Vranic down the hatchway and almost crippled him.
Although the Dalmatian ship sailed away, bound probably towards the East, and he would perhaps never see her captain again, still the shock he felt had quite unnerved him. From that day matters began to go on from bad to worse. Sailing from Genoa, they first met with contrary winds, and much time was lost cruising about; after that came a spell of calm weather, and for long weeks they remained in sight of the bold promontory and of the lighthouse of Cape Bearn, not far from the port of Vendres. At last a fair wind arose, the sails were made taut, and the schooner flew on the crested waves. A new life seemed to have come over the crew, tired of their listless inactivity; the captain cursed Vranic and kicked him a little less than he had done on the previous days.
It was to be hoped that the wind would continue fair; otherwise their provisions would begin falling short. Ill-luck, however, was awaiting them in another direction.
Opening a keg of salted meat a few days later, the stench was so loathsome, that it reminded Vranic of that awful night when he had stabbed the vampire; besides, big worms were crawling and wriggling at the top. Vranic at once called the mate and showed him the rotten meat, and the mate reported the fact to the captain. He only answered with a few oaths, then shrugged his shoulders, and said that dogs would lick their chops at such dainty morsels, and were his men any better than dogs?
"Wash it well, clean it, and put some vinegar with it," said the mate, who was the best man on board. "There is no other meat, and that is better than starving."
Vranic did as he was bid; he put more pepper than usual. Still, he himself did not taste it, but lived on biscuit, for even the potatoes had been all eaten up.
A few days afterwards, taking out another piece from the cask, he drew out a sinewy human arm, hacked in several places, and with the fingers chopped off. Shuddering, and seized with a feeling of loathsomeness, he stood for a moment bewildered. Then he almost fancied he had touched something hairy in the cask, and looking in, he saw a disfigured and bearded man's head. Sickening at the gruesome sight, he dropped the arm into the cask and hastened to the mate, trying to explain to him what the barrel contained.