The sick man fell back. The lieutenant straightened his pillow for him. Then he approached the kneeling maiden:
"What are you afraid of, signorina? Get up. What is it keeps you down on the floor? I won't harm you, my sweet little dove. You ought to be a queen, the absolute ruler of this good ship of ours. That's war for you. Someone has to strike their colours. Someone else gets to fly them from the flagpole. Poor Antonio! He predicted this—for him the grave, for me the beautiful bounty; I love you. I love you, star of Flanders, white rose of Antwerp. I love you and you're mine—stop ruffling your hair, don't look so wild—you're mine and no-one's going to take you from me!"
"Jan! Jan! Help! Rescue me!" cried the maiden, without knowing what it was she was shouting.
"Forget about your sea beggar," whispered Leone. "Has he not had his revenge on us? Will not poor Antonio be dead within the hour? Why are you so bothered about the body of this sea beggar? Leave him to drift with the tide. Get up. Get up, I say. You shouldn't be injuring your chaste brow by banging it on the floor. What can I say? The sea beggar's dead. Antonio Valani is dying. Take Leone, Leone who is still alive, in the blessed arms of his proud and beautiful queen."
"Mercy! Mercy!" stammered the maiden, but the lieutenant merely laughed:
"Listen, one o'clock! At five o'clock we cast off. Till then you have all the time you want to moan as much as you want, but then away with sighs and complaining. Antonio, poor friend, between now and five you've time enough to die. Don't sit up. Lie down. Your wounds are bleeding again. Lie down. What business of yours is the girl?"
"Leone, Leone, look after the ship! Beware the black galley. Look after the ship!" the dying man screamed in his delirium.
"Who cares about the black galley?" muttered Leone della Rota. "The chase will only begin at five o'clock. Calm down, Antonio, calm down. Everything is as it should be on board. No worries. Sleep. Go to sleep."
Once again the captain sank back and closed his eyes. The last wild burst of excitement was followed immediately by the final moments of exhaustion. The life of Antonio Valani, captain of the Andrea Doria, was drawing to a close.
The lieutenant was all too well aware of it. He sighed and shook his head: "Poor Antonio! Poor friend! Must you set sail so soon? Ah, what good does it do to moan about it, and yet—I wish that day was dawning. I wish this long night were over! Once we're out at sea, once the corpse is overboard, only then will I feel better. I really do wish that morning were here already!"