"Ah, it's you, Leone. Do you bring any news from the outside world?"
"Yes, but it isn't good news by any means. It came to the admiral's notice from Fort Liefkenhoek that the story about last night was true. The Immaculate Conception has been dragged down to hell bag and baggage. Only the cabin boy came ashore alive, landing at Fort Bats clinging on to an empty water barrel. There was great jubilation among the heretics and the fishwives of Zeeland—frighteningly ugly creatures, Antonio— dried the boy off and sent him here to give their regards to His Excellency the Governor. They took the boy into the citadel. Well, we'll soon be hearing from the admiral himself."
"God grant it may be so," cried out the Andrea Doria's captain, stamping the deck with his foot in a temper. "Leone, I can't stand this enforced idleness of lying at anchor any longer!"
"Idleness?" laughed the ship's bosun. "By the fair frame of Venus, I didn't know we were being idle. I thought it might be possible to make use of this time we're lying here at anchor. Corpo di Bacco, I've made a fine conquest of a strapping wench in town in the tavern with the arms of Alcantara hanging up outside. You're invited, Antonio."
"You never take life seriously, Leone!" sighed the captain.
"Listen to me," laughed the bosun. "Trust to your instincts, my friend, and don't give me that. Don't turn away with such a miserable look on your face. Follow my finger—see, over there, that light over the city wall in that corner window. Just follow my finger—can you see it? Antonio, Antonello, captain, little captain of mine, who lives in that room? Tell me who has lit that tiny light. Is she not the sweetest child that this northern clime, or should I say this northern bog, has ever brought forth as long as there has been rain here and that must have been for a very long time, I think. Has not Antonio Valani, captain of this good ship, the Andrea Doria, fallen in love body and soul with the fair hair and the blue eyes of this beautiful Fleming? Another of your sighs? Antonio, Antonio, by our lovely lady of Cythera, you can be a pain sometimes!"
Captain Valani turned away indignantly.
"Oh, leave me alone, Leone—go to your buxom wench. I'm giving you the rest of the night off, up until the first cock crows, just to get you and your loose tongue off my ship. Go now, I beg you, go and stop torturing me with your cheerful face. I forgive you the lightness of your blood and your zest for life, but give me an hour by myself if you are truly my friend. My life seems like a wilderness at the moment."
"Antonio," said the second-in-command more seriously, "Antonio, on my honour, it was not my intention to torture you. My plump hostess at the Alcantara Arms can wait keeping an eye on the door for as long as she has a mind to. I won't go. What the devil ails you, my friend? How do things stand with you? Confide in me what it is that oppresses you. It's not last night's bad news from the Scheldt estuary, that's for sure. Confide in me. Can it really be true what I took as a joke and treated in fun? Have you really fallen for the charms of the fair-haired enchantress?"
Captain Valani sighed deeply without answering and Leone went on: