“Thank Heaven, you are so far safe, dearest,” said Fleetwood, as he placed Ada in the stern sheets of the boat, by the side of Jack Raby, who, it was arranged, should steer, while he took the stroke oar, his companions pulling the others.
With heartfelt gratitude did Ada thank Heaven, for having thus far conducted them in safety through the perils which surrounded them, and implored protection for herself, and for the gallant men, her deliverers, through those they had still to encounter.
They had well employed the time spent in waiting, by carefully muffling the oars, so that they should make no noise as they worked in the rullocks, and it was now only necessary to take care to let the blades fall into the water, and to draw them out again with as little splash as possible.
Marianna sat opposite to her mistress; and if not the most delighted of the party at the success which had hitherto attended them, she, at all events, gave more vehement expression to her feelings; and Raby had to apply his former remedy to keep her quiet.
At a sign from Fleetwood, the boat was sent gliding off from the rock; but instead of at once steering out into the bay, she was kept close in shore, under the shadow of the cliffs: the blades of the oars just clearing the sand as they went along.
The boat was a very rough specimen of naval architecture, and wore they to have depended on her speed, the chance of escape would have been small indeed. She was built to pull six oars, with a high bow and stern, and though well suited to serve as a fishing-boat, or to live in the short seas of the Archipelago, was not intended to be used when rapid progress was important. The adventurers had, indeed, selected her, not on account of the qualities she possessed adapted for their purpose, but because she happened to be moored close into the shore, near the east side of the bay, and, what was very important, had her oars left on board her. Pietro, who was a good swimmer, had, it appeared, gone off with his knife in his mouth, and cutting her cable, towed her close enough in for the other two to step into her. They had then brought her round, with the same cautious silence, to where Fleetwood had found her.
The hearts of all beat quick with hope, not unmixed, however, with apprehension, as the boat glided along the shore close to the cliffs.
Fleetwood’s glance was roving watchfully round, to notice the first sign of their being discovered, and of any preparations made for their pursuit. The figure of the unhappy Paolo Montifalcone was the only one discernible, as he stood at the end of the rock, to catch a last glimpse of the faint outline of her on whom he had so devotedly set the affection of his ardent nature, without a prospect of return, and his figure soon faded away in the obscurity.
From the shore, the adventurers had now, they thought, less cause to fear; but they looked with suspicious eyes towards the brig, and the two misticos, on the decks of which, at least, one person ought to have been on the watch; but neither of them gave any signs of having life on board.
“If we had suspected the sort of watch there rascals keep, we should have had little difficulty in taking them by surprise,” thought Fleetwood. “We may profit by our knowledge on another occasion, but I am afraid they will not forget the lesson I hope we shall give them, to be more vigilant in future.”