“By a man habited as a Maltese, and by your own surgeon, whom I had summoned to attend on him,” replied Ada, firmly.
“Why, that must be Salamonsi’s cottage,” remarked Zappa, turning to Vlacco. “Send down forthwith, and let the boy and Signor Paolo be brought up here; and mark you, if the English captain has recovered the use of his tongue, let him be conveyed here also—he shall answer for himself.” He said this in Romaic, so Ada did not understand the cruel order; but Nina did, and, with an imploring look, she stepped to his side, and besought him to revoke the command; but he roughly repulsed her, and, turning to the other three prisoners, he asked, in the lingua Franca, often used by him,—“By what right have you, who were hospitably entertained in this island, attempted to run off with persons whom you knew were my prisoners?”
On this the Maltese seaman, Pietro, stepped forward, and, with the volubility for which the islanders are celebrated, made the long statement which had been previously agreed on, finishing by stating that he and his two companions had been engaged by the lady to convey her on board an English ship, and that they had no reason to suppose they were injuring any one by so doing. As this was all said in Maltese, scarcely a word of which language Zappa understood, he was not a little puzzled, and was insisting on having it repeated in some more intelligible tongue, when Marianna, who was highly delighted with it, not the less so that she knew it contained scarcely a word of truth, volunteered to translate it into Italian, and immediately began with such little additions and touches of her own as she thought would increase the force and probability of the story.
“That will do,” said Zappa, who was not very easily imposed upon, as she was continuing her own commentaries on what had occurred; then turning to Captain Vassilato, “What defence have you to make?”
“As you do not understand my language, and I speak but little lingua Franca, I can say no more than my shipmate,” he replied between his teeth, in the language he mentioned.
“And you,” said Zappa, in the same patois, turning to Bowse. “What have you to say for yourself.”
Poor Bowse, who knew but little of any language except his mother-tongue, his accent undeniably betraying him whenever he did attempt to express himself, thought silence would be his best course, so shaking his head he pointed to his tongue and gave forth some inarticulate sounds, unlike any known dialect.
“You have spoken loud enough before, accursed spy,” exclaimed the pirate, in Italian, starting up, and menacing him with his dagger. “So you thought I did not know you either; you thought I should not remember the man with whom I once have crossed blades, even though I fancied he was food for the fish of the sea. Fools that you were to venture into the lion’s den; or, venturing in, to attempt to carry off his prey. But enough of this, your guilt is clear; you came as spies, and you shall meet their reward. Over the cliffs with the three; we will quickly send their companions after them.”
He said this in Italian, and then repeated it in Romaic.
Old Vlacco, who was now in his element, and delighted at the decision of his chief—indeed, he longed to propose that Ada and Marianna should be made to bear them company—seized the unfortunate men, and was dragging them off with the aid of others of the pirates, when Nina flew to the door to bar their exit.