Late in the afternoon, Francis embarked in his gondola, and in an hour and a half landed at Pelestrina. He was well known, to those posted there, as the bearer of Pisani's orders, and as soon as it became dark, Rufino Giustiniani, who was in command, ordered a dozen men to carry the light gondola across the island to the Malamocco channel. While this was being done, Francis went to Rufino's tent, and informed him of what was going on in Venice, and that the whole fleet would set sail on the morrow.
"We heard rumours, from the men who brought our rations, that it was to be so," Rufino said; "but we have heard the same story a dozen times. So, now, it is really true! But what can the admiral be thinking of! Sure he can't intend to attack Doria with this newly-manned fleet and rabble army. He could not hope for victory against such odds!"
"The admiral's intentions are kept a profound secret," Francis said, "and are only known to the doge and the Council of Ten."
"And to yourself," Rufino said laughing.
"The admiral is good enough to honour me with his fullest confidence," Francis said; "and in this matter, it is so important that the nature of the design should be kept wholly secret, that I cannot tell it even to you!"
"You are quite right, Francisco; nor do I wish to know it, though I would wager that Maria, and her pretty sister, have some inkling of what is going on."
Francis laughed.
"The signoras are good enough to treat me as a brother," he said, "and I will not affirm that they have not obtained some slight information."
"I will warrant they have!" Rufino said. "When my wife has made up her mind to get to the bottom of a matter, she will tease and coax till she succeeds.
"Ah, here is Matteo! he has been out posting the sentries for the night."
The two friends had not indulged in a talk for some weeks, though they had occasionally met when Francis paid one of his flying visits to the island.
"I have just seen your boat being carried along," Matteo said, as he entered the tent. "I could not think what it was till I got close; but of course, when I saw Giuseppi, I knew all about it. What are you going to do--scout among the Genoese?"
"I am going to find out as much as I can," Francis said.
"It's a capital idea your bringing the boat across the island," Matteo said. "You are always full of good ideas, Francis. I can't make it out. They never seem to occur to me, and at the present time, especially, the only ideas that come into my mind are as to the comfortable meals I will eat, when this business is over. I never thought I cared much for eating before, but since I have had nothing but bread--and not enough of that--and an occasional fish, I have discovered that I am really fond of good living. My bones ache perpetually with lying on the bare ground, and if I escape from this, without being a cripple for life from rheumatism, I shall consider myself lucky, indeed. You are a fortunate fellow, Francisco; spending your time in the admiral's comfortable palace, or flying about in a smooth-rowing gondola!"
"That is one side of the question certainly," Francis said, laughing; "but there is a good deal of hard work, too, in the way of writing."
"I should not like that," Matteo said. "Still, I think you have the best of it. If the Genoese would come sometimes, and try and drive us off the island, there would be some excitement. But, except when the admiral wishes a reconnaissance, or Barberigo's galleys come down and stir them up, there is really nothing doing here."
"That ought to suit you exactly, Matteo, for never but once did I hear you say you wanted to do anything."
"When was that?" Rufino asked, laughing.
"Matteo conceived a violent desire to climb Mount Etna," Francis said, "and it needed all my arguments to prevent his leaving the ship at Girgenti, while she was loading, and starting to make the ascent."
"He would have repented before he had gone a quarter of the way up," Rufino said.
"I might have repented," Matteo replied stoutly, "but I would have done it, if I had begun. You don't know me yet, Rufino. I have a large store of energy, only at present I have had no opportunity of showing what I am made of.
"And now, how do you intend to proceed, Francisco? Have you any plan?"
"None at all," Francis replied. "I simply want to assure myself that the galleys are all in their usual places, and that the Genoese are making no special preparations against our coming."
"I have seen no unusual stir," Rufino said. "Their ships, as far as one can see their masts, seem all in their usual position. I fancy that, since Barberigo carried off two of them, they have put booms across the channels to prevent sudden attacks. I saw a lot of rowboats busy about something, but I could not make out exactly what they were doing; but still, I fancy they were constructing a boom. Their galleys keep a sharp lookout at night, and you certainly would not have succeeded in passing them, had you not hit upon this plan of carrying your boat over.
"Your greatest danger will be at first. When once you have fairly entered the inner canals, you are not likely to be suspected of being an enemy. They will take you for Chioggian fishermen late. We often make out their returning boats near the town. No doubt Doria is fond of fresh fish. Otherwise you would be detected, for the Genoese boats are, of course, quite different to ours, and even in the dark they would make out that you belonged to the lagoons.
"Ah, here is supper! It is not often that I should have anything to offer you, but one of my men managed to catch three or four fish today, and sold them to me at about their weight in silver. However, I have some good wine from my own cellars, and a man who has good wine, fish, and bread can do royally, whatever this grumbling brother of mine may say."
Half an hour later, a soldier brought the news that the gondola was in the water, and Francis bade adieu to his friends, and started at once.
"Row slowly and quietly," he said, as he took his seat. "Do not let your oars make the slightest splash in the water, until we are well across to the opposite shore. They may have a guard boat lying in the channel."
The light craft made her way noiselessly across the water. Once or twice they heard the sound of oars, as some Genoese galley passed up or down, but none came near enough to perceive them, and they crossed the main channel, and entered one of the numerous passages practicable only for boats of very light draught, without being once hailed. A broad shallow tract of water was now crossed, passable only by craft drawing but a few inches of water; then again they were in a deeper channel, and the lights of Chioggia rose but a short distance ahead.
They paused and listened, now, for they were nearing the ship channel, and here the enemy would, if anywhere, be on the alert. Coming across the water they could hear the sound of voices, and the dull noise made by the movement of men in a boat.
"Those are the galleys watching the boom, I expect," Francis said.
"Now, Philippo, we can move on. I suppose there is plenty of water, across the flats, for us to get into the channel without going near the boom."
"Plenty for us, signor; but if the boom goes right across the channel, heavy rowboats would not be able to pass. There are few shallower places in the lagoons than just about here. It may be that in one or two places even we might touch, but if we do, the bottom is firm enough for us to get out and float the boat over."
But they did not touch any shoal sufficiently shallow to necessitate this. Several times Francis could feel, by the dragging pace, that she was touching the oozy bottom; but each time she passed over without coming to a standstill. At last Philippo said:
"We are in the deep channel now, signor. The boom is right astern of us. The town is only a few hundred yards ahead."
"Then we shall be passing the Genoese galleys, directly," Francis said. "Row slowly as we go, and splash sometimes with the oars. If we go quickly and noiselessly past, they might possibly suspect something, but if we row without an attempt at concealment, they will take us for a fisherman's boat."
Soon the dark mass of Genoese ships, with their forests of masts, rose before them. There were lights in the cabins, and a buzz of talking, laughing, and singing among the crews on board.
"What luck today?" a sailor asked them as they rowed past, twenty or thirty yards from the side of one of the ships.
"Very poor," Giuseppi replied. "I think your ships, and the boats lying about, and the firing, have frightened the fish away from this end of the lagoons."
It was half a mile before they passed the last of the crowd of vessels.
"Would you like me to land here, signor?" Philippo said. "There would be no danger in my doing so. I can make my way, through the streets, to the house of some of my relatives, and find out from them whether there are any fresh movements among the Genoese. I will not enter any house; for aught I know there are soldiers quartered everywhere; but I am sure not to go many yards before I run against someone I know."
"I think it will be a very good plan, Philippo. We will lie under the bank here, and wait your return."
It was not more than twenty minutes before the gondolier was back.
"I have spoken to three men I know, signor. They are agreed that there are no movements among the enemy, and no one seems to have an idea that the Venetians are about to put to sea. Of course, I was cautious not to let drop a word on the subject, and only said we had managed to get through the enemy's cordon to learn the latest news, and I expected to earn a ducat or two by my night's work."
"That is excellent," Francis said. "Now, we will row out to the sea mouths of the channels, to assure ourselves that no ships are lying on guard there, for some are going in or out every day to cruise along the coast. A few may have taken up their station there, without attracting notice among the townspeople."
The opening of the passage known as the Canal of Lombardy was first visited. To gain this, they had to retrace their steps for some distance, and to row through the town of Chioggia, passing several boats and galleys, but without attracting notice. They found the mouth of the canal entirely unguarded, and then returned and rowed out to the mouth of the Brondolo passage. Some blazing fires on the shore showed that there were parties of soldiers here, but no ships were lying anywhere in the channel.
After some consultation they determined that, as no watch seemed to be kept, it would be shorter to row on outside the islands, and to enter by the third passage to be examined, that between Pelestrina and Brondolo. Here, however, the Genoese were more on the alert, as the Pelestrina shore was held by the Venetians. Scarcely had they entered the channel, when a large rowboat shot out from the shadow of the shore and hailed them.
"Stop rowing in that boat! Who are you that are entering so late?"
"Fishermen," Philippo shouted back, but without stopping rowing.
"Stop!" shouted the officer, "till we examine you! It is forbidden to enter the channel after dark."
But the gondoliers rowed steadily on, until ahead of the boat coming out. This fell into their wake, and its angry officer shouted threats against the fugitives, and exhorted his men to row their hardest.
"There are two more boats ahead, signor. They are lying on their oars to cut us off. One is a good deal further out than the other, and I don't think we shall gain Pelestrina."
"Then make for the Brondolo shore till we have passed them," Francis said.
The boat whirled off her course, and made towards the shore. The Genoese galleys ahead at once made towards them; but in spite of the numerous oars they pulled, the craft could not keep up with the racing gondola, and it crossed ahead of them. In another five minutes' rowing, the three galleys were well astern, and the gondola again made out from the shore, her head pointing obliquely towards Pelestrina. The galleys were now fifty yards behind, and although their crews rowed their hardest, the gondola gradually gained upon them, and crossing their bows made over towards Pelestrina.
"We are out of the channel now," Philippo said, "and there will not be water enough for them to follow us much further."
A minute or two later a sudden shout proclaimed that the nearest of their pursuers had touched the ground.
"We can take it easy now," Giuseppi said, "and I am not sorry, for we could not have rowed harder if we had been racing."
A few minutes later, the light craft touched the mud a few yards distant from the shore.
"Is that you, Francisco?" a voice, which Francis recognized as Matteo's, asked.
"All right, Matteo!" he replied. "No one hurt this time."
"I have been on the lookout for you the last hour. I have got a body of my men here, in case you were chased. We heard the shouting and guessed it was you."
"If you have got some men there, Matteo, there is a chance for you to take a prize. A galley rowing twelve or fourteen oars is in the mud, a few hundred yards out. She was chasing us, and ran aground when at full speed, and I imagine they will have some trouble in getting her off. I suppose she draws a couple of feet of water. There! Don't you hear the hubbub they are making?"
"I hear them," Matteo said.
"Come along, lads. The night is cold, and I don't suppose the water is any warmer, but a skirmish will heat our blood."
Matteo, followed by a company of some forty men, at once entered the water, and made in the direction of the sounds. Five minutes later, Francis heard shouts and a clashing of weapons suddenly break out. It lasted but a short time. Matteo and his band soon returned with the prisoners.
"What! Have you waited, Francisco? I thought you would be on the other side of the island by this time."
"I was in no particular hurry, Matteo; and besides, I want my boat; and although two men can lift her easily enough, she would be a heavy weight to carry so far."
"You shall have a dozen, Francisco. It is owing to you we have taken these prisoners, and that I have had my first bit of excitement since I came out here.
"Sergeant, here are a couple of ducats. When you have given the prisoners into safe custody, spend the money in wine for the company.
"The water is bitterly cold, I can tell you, Francisco; but otherwise I am warm enough, for one's feet stick to the mud, and it seems, each step, as if one had fifty pounds of lead on one's shoes. But come along to my brother's tent at once. Your feet must be cold, too, though the water was only a few inches deep where you got out of your boat. A glass of hot wine will do us both good; and it will be an hour before your boat is in the water again. Indeed, I don't see the use of your starting before daybreak."
"Nor do I, Matteo; but I must go, nevertheless. Pisani knows how long it will take me to get to Chioggia and return. He will allow an hour or two for me to reconnoitre, and will then be expecting me back. As it is, I shall be two hours after the time when he will be expecting me, for he knows nothing about the boat being carried across this island, and will make no allowance for that. Moreover, Polani and his daughters will be anxious about me."
"Oh, you flatter yourself they will be lying awake for you," Matteo said, laughing. "Thinking over your dangers! Well, there's nothing like having a good idea of one's self."
Francis joined in the laugh.
"It does sound rather conceited, Matteo; but I know they will be anxious. They took up the idea it was a dangerous service I was going on, and I have no doubt they fidgeted over it. Women are always fancying things, you know."
"I don't know anyone who fidgets about me," Matteo said; "but then, you see, I am not a rescuer of damsels in distress, nor have I received the thanks of the republic for gallant actions."
"Well, you ought to have done," Francis replied. "You had just as much to do with that fight on board Pisani's galley as I had, only it happened I was in command.
"Oh, there is your brother's tent! I see there is a light burning, so I suppose he has not gone to bed yet."
"All the better," Matteo said. "We shall get our hot wine all the quicker. My teeth are chattering so, I hardly dare speak for fear of biting my tongue."
Francis was warmly welcomed by Rufino Giustiniani.
"I need hardly ask you if you have succeeded in reconnoitring their positions, for I know you would not come back before morning had you not carried out your orders.
"Why, Matteo, what have you been doing--wading in the mud, apparently? Why, you are wet up to the waist."
"We have captured an officer, and fourteen men, Rufino. They will be here in a few minutes. Their boat got stuck fast while it was chasing Francisco; so we waded out and took them. They made some resistance, but beyond a few slashes, and two or three thumps from their oars, no harm was done."
"That is right, Matteo. I am glad you have had a skirmish with them at last. Now go in and change your things. I shall have you on my hands with rheumatism."
"I will do that at once, and I hope you will have some hot spiced wine ready, by the time I have changed, for I am nearly frozen."
The embers of a fire, outside the tent, were soon stirred together, and in a few minutes the wine was prepared. In the meantime, Francis had been telling Rufino the incidents of his trip. In half an hour, the message came that the gondola was again in the water, and Francis was soon on his way back to the city.
"I was beginning to be anxious about you," was Pisani's greeting, as, upon being informed of his return, he sprang from the couch, on which he had thrown himself for an hour's sleep, and hurried downstairs. "I reckoned that you might have been back an hour before this, and began to think that you must have got into some scrape. Well, what have you discovered?"
"The Genoese have no idea that you are going to put to sea. Their ships and galleys are, as usual, moored off the quays of Chioggia. The entrance to the Canal of Lombardy, and the Brondolo passage, are both quite open, and there appear to be no troops anywhere near; but between Pelestrina and Brondolo they have rowboats watching the entrance, but no craft of any size. There are a few troops there, but, so far as I could judge by the number of fires, not more than two hundred men or so."
"Your news is excellent, Francisco. I will not ask you more, now. It is three o'clock already, and at five I must be up and doing; so get off to bed as soon as you can. You can give me the details in the morning."
The gondola was still waiting at the steps, and in a few minutes Francis arrived at the Palazzo Polani. A servant was sleeping on a bench in the hall. He started up as Francis entered.
"I have orders to let my master know, as soon as you return, signor."
"You can tell him, at the same time, that I have returned without hurt, and pray him not to disturb himself, as I can tell him what has taken place in the morning."
Polani, however, at once came to Francis' room.
"Thank Heaven you have returned safe to us, my boy!" he said. "I have just knocked at the girls' doors, to tell them of your return, and, by the quickness with which they answered, I am sure that they, like myself, have had no sleep. Have you succeeded in your mission?"
"Perfectly, signor. I have been to Chioggia itself, and to the entrances of the three passages, and have discovered that none of them are guarded by any force that could resist us."
"But how did you manage to pass through their galleys?"
"I landed on this side of Pelestrina, and had the gondola carried across, and launched in the channel inside their cordon; and it was not until we entered the last passage--that by Brondolo--that we were noticed. Then there was a sharp chase for a bit, but we outstripped them, and got safely across to Pelestrina. One of the galleys, in the excitement of the chase, ran fast into the mud; and Matteo, with some of his men, waded out and captured the officer and crew. So there is every prospect of our succeeding tomorrow."
"All that is good," Polani said; "but to me, just at present, I own that the principal thing is that you have got safely back. Now I will not keep you from your bed, for I suppose that you will not be able to lie late in the morning."
Francis certainly did not intend to do so, but the sun was high before he woke. He hurriedly dressed, and went downstairs.
"I have seen the admiral," Polani said as he entered, "and told him that you were sound asleep, and I did not intend to wake you, for that you were looking worn and knocked up. He said: 'Quite right! The lad is so willing and active, that I forget sometimes that he is not an old sea dog like myself, accustomed to sleep with one eye open, and to go without sleep altogether for days if necessary.' So you need not hurry over your breakfast. The girls are dying to hear your adventures."
As he took his breakfast, Francis gave the girls an account of his expedition.
"And so, you saw Rufino!" Maria said. "Did he inquire after me? You told him, I hope, that I was fading away rapidly from grief at his absence."
"I did not venture upon so flagrant an untruth as that," Francis replied.
"Is he very uncomfortable?"
"Not very, signora. He has a good tent, some excellent wine, an allowance of bread, which might be larger, and occasionally fish. As he has also the gift of excellent spirits, I do not think he is greatly to be pitied--except, of course, for his absence from you."
"That, of course," Maria said. "When he does come here, he always tells me a moving tale of his privations, in hopes of exciting pity; but, unfortunately, I cannot help laughing at his tales of hardship. But we were really anxious about you last night, Francisco, and very thankful when we heard you had returned.
"Weren't we, Giulia?"
Giulia nodded.
"Giulia hasn't much to say when you are here, Francisco, but she can chatter about you fast enough when we are alone."
"How can you say so, Maria?" Giulia said reproachfully.
"Well, my dear, there is no harm in that. For aught he knows, you may be saying the most unkind things about him, all the time."
"I am sure he knows that I should not do that," Giulia said indignantly.
"By the way, do you know, Francisco, that all Venice is in a state of excitement! A proclamation has been issued by the doge, this morning, that all should be in their galleys and at their posts at noon, under pain of death. So everyone knows that something is about to be done, at last."
"Then it is time for me to be off," Francis said, rising hastily, "for it is ten o'clock already."
"Take your time, my lad," the merchant said. "There is no hurry, for Pisani told me, privately, that they should not sail until after dark."
It was not, indeed, until nearly eight o'clock in the evening, that the expedition started. At the hour of vespers, the doge, Pisani, and the other leaders of the expedition, attended mass in the church of Saint Mark, and then proceeded to their galleys, where all was now in readiness.
Pisani led the first division, which consisted of fourteen galleys. The doge, assisted by Cavalli, commanded in the centre; and Corbaro brought up the rear, with ten large ships. The night was beautifully bright and calm, a light and favourable breeze was blowing, and all Venice assembled to see the departure of the fleet.
Just after it passed through the passage of the Lido, a thick mist came on. Pisani stamped up and down the deck impatiently.
"If this goes on, it will ruin us," he said. "Instead of arriving in proper order at the mouth of the passages, and occupying them before the Genoese wake up to a sense of their danger, we shall get there one by one, they will take the alarm, and we shall have their whole fleet to deal with. It will be simply ruin to our scheme."
Fortunately, however, the fog speedily lifted. The vessels closed up together, and, in two hours after starting, arrived off the entrances to the channels. Pisani anchored until daylight appeared, and nearly five thousand men were then landed on the Brondolo's shore, easily driving back the small detachment placed there. But the alarm was soon given, and the Genoese poured out in such overwhelming force that the Venetians were driven in disorder to their boats, leaving behind them six hundred killed, drowned, or prisoners.
But Pisani had not supposed that he would be able to hold his position in front of the whole Genoese force, and he had succeeded in his main object. While the fighting had been going on on shore, a party of sailors had managed to moor a great ship, laden with stones, across the channel. As soon as the Genoese had driven the Venetians to their boats, they took possession of this vessel, and, finding that she was aground, they set her on fire, thus unconsciously aiding Pisani's object, for when she had burned to the water's edge she sank.
Barberigo, with his light galleys, now arrived upon the spot, and emptied their loads of stone into the passage around the wreck. The Genoese kept up a heavy fire with their artillery, many of the galleys were sunk, and numbers of the Venetians drowned, or killed by the shot.
Nevertheless, they worked on unflinchingly. As soon as the pile of stones had risen sufficiently for the men to stand upon them, waist deep, they took their places upon it, and packed in order the stones that their comrades handed them, and fixed heavy chains binding the whole together.
The work was terribly severe. The cold was bitter. The men were badly fed, and most of them altogether unaccustomed to hardships. In addition to the fire from the enemy's guns, they were exposed to a rain of arrows, and at the end of two days and nights they were utterly worn out and exhausted, and protested that they could do no more. Pisani, who had himself laboured among them in the thickest of the danger, strove to keep up their spirits by pointing out the importance of their work, and requested the doge to swear on his sword that, old as he was, he would never return to Venice unless Chioggia was conquered.
The doge took the oath, and for the moment the murmuring ceased; and, on the night of the 24th, the channel of Chioggia was entirely choked from shore to shore. On that day, Corbaro succeeded in sinking two hulks in the passage of Brondolo. Doria, who had hitherto believed that the Venetians would attempt nothing serious, now perceived for the first time the object of Pisani, and despatched fourteen great galleys to crush Corbaro, who had with him but four vessels. Pisani at once sailed to his assistance, with ten more ships, and the passage was now so narrow that the Genoese did not venture to attack, and Corbaro completed the operation of blocking up the Brondolo passage. The next day the Canal of Lombardy was similarly blocked; and thus, on the fourth day after leaving Venice, Pisani had accomplished his object, and had shut out the Genoese galleys from the sea.
But the work had been terrible, and the losses great. The soldiers were on half rations. The cold was piercing. They were engaged night and day with the enemy, and were continually wet through, and the labour was tremendous.
A fort had already been begun on the southern shore of the port of Brondolo, facing the convent, which Doria had transformed into a citadel. The new work was christened the Lova, and the heaviest guns in the Venetian arsenal were planted there. One of these, named the Trevisan, discharged stones of a hundred and ninety-five pounds in weight, and the Victory was little smaller. But the science of artillery was then in its youth, and these guns could only be discharged once in twenty-four hours.
But, on the 29th, the Venetians could do no more, and officers, soldiers, and sailors united in the demand that they should return to Venice. Even Pisani felt that the enterprise was beyond him, and that his men, exhausted by cold, hunger, and their incessant exertions, could no longer resist the overwhelming odds brought against him. Still, he maintained a brave front, and once again his cheery words, and unfeigned good temper, and the example set them by the aged doge, had their effect; but the soldiers required a pledge that, if Zeno should not be signalled in sight by New Year's Day, he would raise the siege. If Pisani and the doge would pledge themselves to this, the people agreed to maintain the struggle for the intervening forty-eight hours.
The pledge was given, and the fight continued. Thus, the fate of Venice hung in the balance. If Zeno arrived, not only would she be saved, but she had it in her power to inflict upon Genoa a terrible blow. Should Zeno still tarry, not only would the siege be raised, and the Genoese be at liberty to remove the dams which the Venetians had placed, at such a cost of suffering and blood; but there would be nothing left for Venice but to accept the terms, however onerous, her triumphant foes might dictate, terms which would certainly strip her of all her possessions, and probably involve even her independence.
Never, from her first foundation, had Venice been in such terrible risk. Her very existence trembled in the balance. The 30th passed as the days preceding it. There was but little fighting, for the Genoese knew how terrible were the straits to which Venice was reduced, and learned, from the prisoners they had taken, that in a few days, at the outside, the army besieging them would cease to exist.
At daybreak, on the 31st, men ascended the masts of the ships, and gazed over the sea, in hopes of making out the long-expected sails. But the sea was bare. It was terrible to see the faces of the Venetians, gaunt with famine, broken down by cold and fatigue. Even the most enduring began to despair.
Men spoke no more of Zeno. He had been away for months. Was it likely that he would come just at this moment? They talked rather of their homes. The next day they would return. If they must die, they would die with those they loved, in Venice. They should not mind that. And so the day went on, and as they lay down at night, hungry and cold, they thanked God that it was their last day. Whatever might come would be better than this.
Men were at the mastheads again, before daylight, on the 1st of January. Then, as the first streak of dawn broke, the cry went from masthead to masthead:
"There are ships out at sea!"
The cry was heard on shore. Pisani jumped into a boat with Francis, rowed out to his ship, and climbed the mast.
"Yes, there are ships!" he said. And then, after a pause: "Fifteen of them! Who are they? God grant it be Zeno!"
This was the question everyone on ship and on shore was asking himself, for it was known that the Genoese, too, were expecting reinforcements.
"The wind is scarce strong enough to move them through the water," Pisani said. "Let some light boats go off to reconnoitre. Let us know the best or the worst. If it be Zeno, Venice is saved! If it be the Genoese, I, and those who agree with me that it is better to die fighting, than to perish of hunger, will go out and attack them."
In a few minutes, several fast galleys started for the fleet, which was still so far away that the vessels could scarcely be made out, still less their rig and nationality. It would be some time before the boats would return with the news, and Pisani went ashore, and, with the doge, moved among the men, exhorting them to be steadfast, above all things not to give way to panic, should the newcomers prove to be enemies.
"If all is done in order," he said, "they cannot interfere with our retreat to Venice. They do not know how weak we are, and will not venture to attack so large a fleet. Therefore, when the signal is made that they are Genoese, we will fall back in good order to our boats, and take to our ships, and then either return to Venice, or sail out and give battle, as it may be decided."
The boats, before starting, had been told to hoist white flags should the galleys be Venetian, but to show no signal if they were Genoese. The boats were watched, from the mastheads, until they became specks in the distance. An hour afterwards, the lookout signalled to those on shore that they were returning.
"Go off again, Francisco. I must remain here to keep up the men's hearts, if the news be bad. Take your stand on the poop of my ship, and the moment the lookouts can say, with certainty, whether the boats carry a white flag or not, hoist the Lion of Saint Mark to the masthead, if it be Zeno. If not, run up a blue flag!"
Francis rowed off to the ship, got the flags in readiness for hoisting, and stood with the lines in his hand.
"Can you make them out, yet?" he hailed the men at the mastheads.
"They are mere specks yet, signor," the man at the foremast said.
The other did not reply at once, but presently he shouted down:
"Far as they are away, signor, I am almost sure that one or two of them, at least, have something white flying."
There was a murmur of joy from the men on the deck, for Jacopo Zippo was famous for his keenness of sight.
"Silence, men!" Francis said. "Do not let a man shout, or wave his cap, till we are absolutely certain. Remember the agony with which those on shore are watching us, and the awful disappointment it would be, were their hopes raised only to be crushed, afterwards."
Another ten minutes, and Jacopo slid rapidly down by the stays, and stood on the deck with bared head.
"God be praised, signor! I have no longer a doubt. I can tell you, for certain, that white flags are flying from these boats."
"God be praised!" Francis replied.
"Now, up with the Lion!"
The flag was bent to the halyards and Francis hoisted it. As it rose above the bulwark, Pisani, who was standing on a hillock of sand, shouted out at the top of his voice:
"It is Zeno's fleet!"
A shout of joy broke from the troops. Cheer after cheer rent the air, from ship and shore, and then the wildest excitement reigned. Some fell on their knees, to thank God for the rescue thus sent when all seemed lost. Others stood with clasped hands, and streaming eyes, looking towards heaven. Some danced and shouted. Some wept with joy. Men fell on to each other's necks, and embraced. Some threw up their caps. All were wild with joy, and pent-up excitement.
Zeno, who, in ignorance of the terrible straits to which his countrymen were reduced, was making with his fleet direct to Venice, was intercepted by one of the galleys, and at once bore up for Brondolo, and presently dropped anchor near the shore. As he did so, a boat was lowered, and he rowed to the strand, where the Venetians crowded down to greet him. With difficulty, he made his way through the shouting multitude to the spot, a little distance away, where the doge was awaiting him.
Zeno was of medium height, square shouldered and broad chested. His head was manly and handsome, his nose aquiline, his eyes large, dark, and piercingly bright, and shaded by strongly-marked eyebrows. His air was grave and thoughtful, and in strong contrast to that of the merry and buoyant Pisani. His temper was more equable, but his character was as impulsive as that of the admiral. He was now forty-five years of age--ten years the junior of Pisani. Zeno was intended for the church, and was presented by the pope with the reversion of a rich prebendal stall at Patras. On his way to Padua, to complete his studies at the university, he was attacked by robbers, who left him for dead. He recovered, however, and went to Padua. He became an accomplished scholar; but was so fond of gambling that he lost every penny, and was obliged to escape from his creditors by flight. For five years he wandered over Italy, taking part in all sorts of adventures, and then suddenly returned to Venice, and was persuaded by his friends to proceed to Patras, where his stall was now vacant.
When he arrived there, he found the city besieged by the Turks. In spite of his clerical dignity, he placed himself in the front rank of its defenders, and distinguished himself by extreme bravery. He was desperately wounded, and was again believed to be dead. He was even placed in his coffin; but just as it was being nailed down, he showed signs of returning life. He did not stay long at Patras, but travelled in Germany, France, and England.
Soon after he returned to Patras he fought a duel, and thereby forfeited his stall. He now renounced the clerical profession, and married a wealthy heiress. She died shortly afterwards, and he married the daughter of the Admiral Marco Giustiniani.
He now entered upon political life, and soon showed brilliant talents. He was then appointed to the military command of the district of Treviso, which the Paduans were then invading. Here he very greatly distinguished himself, and in numberless engagements was always successful, so that he became known as Zeno the Unconquered.
When Pisani was appointed captain general, in April, 1378, he was appointed governor of Negropont, and soon afterwards received a separate naval command. He had been lost sight of for many months, prior to his appearance so opportunely before Brondolo, and he now confirmed to the doge the news that had been received shortly before. He had captured nearly seventy Genoese vessels, of various sizes, had cruised for some time in sight of Genoa, struck a heavy blow at her commerce, and prevented the despatch of the reinforcements promised to Doria. Among the vessels taken was one which was carrying three hundred thousand ducats from Genoa.
He reported himself ready with his men to take up the brunt of the siege forthwith, and selecting Brondolo as the most dangerous position, at once landed his crews. The stores on board ship were also brought ashore, and proved ample for the present necessities of the army.
In a few days, he sailed with his galleys and recaptured Loredo, driving out the Paduan garrison there. This conquest was all important to Venice, for it opened their communication with Ferrara, and vast stores of provisions were at once sent by their ally to Venice, and the pressure of starvation immediately ceased.
The siege of Brondolo was now pushed on, and on the 22nd of January the great bombard, the Victory, so battered the wall opposite to it that it fell suddenly, crushing beneath its ruins the Genoese commander, Doria.
The change which three weeks had made in the appearance of the Venetian forces was marvellous. Ample food, firing, and shelter had restored their wasted frames, and assurance of victory had taken the place of the courage of despair. A month of toil, hardship, and fighting had converted a mob of recruits into disciplined soldiers, and Zeno and Pisani seemed to have filled all with their own energy and courage. Zeno, indeed, was so rash and fearless that he had innumerable escapes from death.
One evening after dusk his own vessel, having been accidentally torn from its anchorage near the Lova Fort by the force of the wind and currents, was driven across the passage against the enemy's forts, whence showers of missiles were poured into it. One arrow pierced his throat. Dragging it out, he continued to issue his orders for getting the galley off the shore--bade a seaman swim with a line to the moorings, and angrily rebuked those who, believing destruction to be inevitable, entreated him to strike his flag. The sailor reached the moorings, and, with a line he had taken, made fast a strong rope to it, and the vessel was then hauled off into a place of safety. As Zeno hurried along the deck, superintending the operation, he tumbled down an open hatchway, and fell on his back, almost unconscious. In a few moments he would have been suffocated by the blood from the wound in his throat, but with a final effort he managed to roll over on to his face, the wound was thus permitted to bleed freely, and he soon recovered.
On the 28th of February, he was appointed general in chief of the land forces, and the next day drove the Genoese from all their positions on the islands of Brondolo and Little Chioggia, and on the following morning established his headquarters under the ramparts of Chioggia, and directed a destructive fire upon the citadel. As the Genoese fell back across the bridge over the Canal of Santa Caterina, the structure gave way under their weight, and great numbers were drowned. The retreat of the Genoese was indeed so hurried and confused, and they left behind them an immense quantity of arms, accoutrements, and war material, so much so that suits of mail were selling for a few shillings in the Venetian camp.
So completely were the Genoese disheartened, by the change in their position, that many thought that the Venetians could at once have taken Chioggia by assault; but the leaders were determined to risk no failure, and knew that the enemy must yield to hunger. They therefore contented themselves with a rigorous blockade, cutting off all the supplies which the Lord of Padua endeavoured to throw into the city. The Venetians, however, allowed the besieged to send away their women and children, who were taken to Venice and kindly treated there.
The army of Venice had now been vastly increased, by the arrival of the Star Company of Milan, and the Condottieri commanded by Sir John Hawkwood. The dikes, erected across the channels with so much labour, were removed, and the fleet took their part in the siege.
On the 14th of May there was joy in Chioggia, similar to that which the Venetians had felt at the sight of Zeno's fleet, for on that morning the squadron, which Genoa had sent to their assistance under the command of Matteo Maruffo, appeared in sight. This admiral had wasted much valuable time on the way, but had fallen in with and captured, after a most gallant resistance, five Venetian galleys under Giustiniani, who had been despatched to Apulia to fetch grain.
The Genoese fleet drew up in order of battle, and challenged Pisani to come out to engage them. But, impetuous as was the disposition of the admiral, and greatly as he longed to avenge his defeat at Pola, he refused to stir. He knew that Chioggia must, ere long, fall, and he would not risk all the advantages gained, by so many months of toil and effort, upon the hazard of a battle. Day after day Maruffo repeated his challenge, accompanied by such insolent taunts that the blood of the Venetian sailors was so stirred that Pisani could no longer restrain them. After obtaining leave from the doge to go out and give battle, he sailed into the roadstead on the 25th. The two fleets drew up in line of battle, facing each other. Just as the combat was about to commence a strange panic seized the Genoese, and, without exchanging a blow or firing a shot, they fled hastily. Pisani pursued them for some miles, and then returned to his old station.
The grief and despair of the garrison of Chioggia, at the sight of the retreat of their fleet, was in proportion to the joy with which they had hailed its approach. Their supply of fresh water was all but exhausted. Their rations had become so scanty that, from sheer weakness, they were unable, after the first week in June, to work their guns.
Genoa, in despair at the position of her troops, laboured unceasingly to relieve them. Emissaries were sent to tamper with the free companies, and succeeded so far that these would have marched away, had they not been appeased by the promise of a three days' sack of Chioggia, and a month's extra pay at the end of the war. Attempts were made to assassinate Zeno, but these also failed. The Genoese then induced the pope to intercede on their behalf; but the council remembered that when Venice was at the edge of destruction, on the 31st of December, no power had come forward to save her, and refused now to be robbed of the well-earned triumph.
On the 15th of July, Maruffo, who had received reinforcements again made his appearance; but Pisani this time refused to be tempted out. On the 21st a deputation was sent out from Chioggia to ask for terms, and though, on being told that an unconditional surrender alone would be accepted, they returned to the city, yet the following day the Genoese flag was hauled down from the battlements.
On the 24th the doge, accompanied by Pisani and Zeno, made his formal entry into Chioggia. The booty was enormous; and the companies received the promised bounty, and were allowed to pillage for three days. So large was the plunder collected, in this time, by the adventurers, that the share of one of them amounted to five hundred ducats. The republic, however, did not come off altogether without spoil--they obtained nineteen seaworthy galleys, four thousand four hundred and forty prisoners, and a vast amount of valuable stores, the salt alone being computed as worth ninety thousand crowns.
Not even when the triumphant fleet returned, after the conquest of Constantinople, was Venice so wild with delight, as when the doge, accompanied by Pisani and Zeno, entered the city in triumph after the capture of Chioggia. From the danger, more imminent than any that had threatened Venice from her first foundation, they had emerged with a success which would cripple the strength, and lower the pride of Genoa for years. Each citizen felt that he had some share in the triumph, for each had taken his share in the sufferings, the sacrifices, and the efforts of the struggle. There had been no unmanly giving way to despair, no pitiful entreaty for aid in their peril. Venice had relied upon herself, and had come out triumphant.
From every house hung flags and banners, every balcony was hung with tapestry and drapery. The Grand Canal was closely packed with gondolas, which, for once, disregarded the sumptuary law that enforced black as their only hue, and shone in a mass of colour. Gaily dressed ladies sat beneath canopies of silk and velvet; flags floated from every boat, and the rowers were dressed in the bright liveries of their employers. The church bells rang out with a deafening clang, and from roof and balcony, from wharf and river, rang out a mighty shout of welcome and triumph from the crowded mass, as the great state gondola, bearing the doge and the two commanders, made its way, slowly and with difficulty, along the centre of the canal.
Francis was on board one of the gondolas that followed in the wake of that of the doge, and as soon as the grand service in Saint Mark's was over, he slipped off and made his way back to the Palazzo Polani. The merchant and Giulia had both been present at the ceremony, and had just returned when he arrived.
"I guessed you would be off at once, Francisco, directly the ceremony was over. I own that I, myself, would have stayed for a time to see the grand doings in the Piazza, but this child would not hear of our doing so. She said it would be a shame, indeed, if you should arrive home and find no one to greet you."
"So it would have been," Giulia said. "I am sure I should not have liked, when I have been away, even on a visit of pleasure to Corfu, to return and find the house empty; and after the terrible dangers and hardships you have gone through, Francisco, it would have been unkind, indeed, had we not been here. You still look thin and worn."
"I think that is fancy on your part, Giulia. To my eyes he looks as stout as ever I saw him. But certainly he looked as lean and famished as a wolf, when I paid that visit to the camp the day before Zeno's arrival. His clothes hung loose about him, his cheeks were hollow, and his eyes sunken. He would have been a sight for men to stare at, had not every one else been in an equally bad case.
"Well, I thank God there is an end of it, now! Genoa will be glad to make peace on any terms, and the sea will once more be open to our ships. So now, Francisco, you have done with fighting, and will be able to turn your attention to the humbler occupation of a merchant."
"That will I right gladly," Francis said. "I used to think, once, I should like to be a man-at-arms; but I have seen enough of it, and hope I never will draw my sword again, unless it be in conflict with some Moorish rover. I have had many letters from my father, chiding me for mingling in frays in which I have no concern, and shall be able to gladden his heart, by writing to assure him that I have done with fighting."
"It has done you no harm, Francisco, or rather it has done you much good. It has given you the citizenship of Venice, in itself no slight advantage to you as a trader here. It has given you three hundred ducats a year, which, as a mark of honour, is not to be despised. It has won for you a name throughout the republic, and has given you a fame and popularity such as few, if any, citizens of Venice ever attained at your age. Lastly, it has made a man of you. It has given you confidence and self possession. You have acquired the habit of commanding men. You have been placed in positions which have called for the exercise of rare judgment, prudence, and courage; and you have come well through it all. It is but four years since your father left you a lad in my keeping. Now you are a man, whom the highest noble in Venice might be proud of calling his son. You have no reason to regret, therefore, that you have, for a year, taken up soldiering instead of trading, especially as our business was all stopped by the war, and you must have passed your time in inactivity."
In the evening, when the merchant and Francis were alone together, the former said:
"I told you last autumn, Francis, when I informed you that, henceforth, you would enter into my house as a partner in the business, when we again recommenced trade, that I had something else in my mind, but the time to speak of it had not then arrived. I think it has now come. Tell me, my boy, frankly, if there is anything that you would wish to ask of me."
Francis was silent for a moment; then he said:
"You have done so much, Signor Polani. You have heaped kindness upon me, altogether beyond anything I could have hoped for, that, even did I wish for more, I could not ask it."
"Then there is something more you would like, Francisco. Remember that I have told you that I regard you as a son, and therefore I wish you to speak to me, as frankly as if I was really your father."
"I fear, signor, that you will think me audacious, but since you thus urge upon me to speak all that is in my mind, I cannot but tell you the truth. I love your daughter, Giulia, and have done so ever since the first day that my eyes fell on her. It has seemed to me too much, even to hope, that she can ever be mine, and I have been careful in letting no word expressive of my feelings pass my lips. It still seems, to me, beyond the bounds of possibility that I could successfully aspire to the hand of the daughter of one of the noblest families in Venice."
"I am glad you have spoken frankly, dear lad," the merchant said. "Ever since you rescued my daughters from the hands of Mocenigo, it has been on my mind that someday, perhaps, you would be my son-in-law, as well as my son by adoption. I have watched with approval that, as Giulia grew from a child into a young woman, her liking for you seemed to ripen into affection. This afternoon I have spoken to her, and she has acknowledged that she would obey my commands, to regard you as her future husband, with gladness.
"I could not, however, offer my daughter's hand to one who might reject it, or who, if he accepted it, would only do so because he considered the match to be a desirable one, from a business point of view. Now that you have told me you love her, all difficulties are at an end. I am not one of those fathers who would force a marriage upon their daughters, regardless of their feelings. I gave to Maria free choice among her various suitors, and so I would give it to Giulia. Her choice is in accordance with my own secret hopes, and I therefore, freely and gladly, bestow her upon you. You must promise only that you do not carry her away altogether to England, so long as I live. You can, if you like, pay long visits with her from time to time to your native country, but make Venice your headquarters.
"I need say nothing to you about her dowry. I intended that, as my partner, you should take a fourth share of the profits of the business; but as Giulia's husband, I shall now propose that you have a third. This will give you an income equal to that of all but the wealthiest of the nobles of Venice. At my death, my fortune will be divided between my girls."
Francis expressed, in a few words, his joy and gratitude at the merchant's offer. Giulia had inspired him, four years before, with a boyish love, and it had steadily increased until he felt that, however great his success in life as Messer Polani's partner, his happiness would be incomplete unless shared by Giulia. Polani cut short his words by saying:
"My dear boy, I am as pleased that this should be so as you are. I now feel that I have, indeed, gained a son and secured the happiness of my daughter. Go in to her now. You will find her in the embroidery room. I told her that I should speak to you this evening, and she is doubtless in a tremble as to the result, for she told me frankly that, although she loved you, she feared you only regarded her with the affection of a brother, and she implored me, above all, not to give you a hint of her feelings towards you, until I was convinced that you really loved her."
Two months later, the marriage of Francis Hammond and Giulia Polani took place. There were great festivities, and the merchant spent a considerable sum in giving a feast, on the occasion, to all the poor of Venice. Maria told Francis, in confidence, that she had always made up her mind that he would marry Giulia.
"The child was silly enough to fall in love with you from the first, Francisco, and I was sure that you, in your dull English fashion, cared for her. My father confided to me, long since, that he hoped it would come about."
Francis Hammond lived for many years with his wife in Venice, paying occasional visits to England. He was joined, soon after his marriage, by his brother, who, after serving for some years in the business, entered it as a partner, when Messer Polani's increasing years rendered it necessary for him to retire from an active participation in it.
Some months after his marriage, Francis was saddened by the death of Admiral Pisani, who never recovered from the fatigue and hardships he suffered during the siege of Chioggia. He had, with the fleet, recovered most of the places that the Genoese had captured, and after chasing a Genoese fleet to Zara, had a partial engagement with them there. In this, Corbaro, now holding the commission of admiral of the squadron, was killed, and Pisani himself wounded. He was already suffering from fever; and the loss of Corbaro, and the check that the fleet had suffered, increased his malady, and he expired three days later.
Venice made peace with Genoa, but the grudge which she bore to Padua was not wiped out until some years later, when, in 1404, that city was besieged by the Venetians, and forced by famine to surrender in the autumn of the following year; after which Zeno, having been proved to have kept up secret communications with the Lord of Padua, was deprived of his honours and sentenced to a year's imprisonment. Thus, in turn, the two great Venetian commanders suffered disgrace and imprisonment.
As she had been patient and steadfast in her time of distress, Venice was clement in her hour of triumph, and granted far more favourable terms to Padua than that city deserved.
At the death of Messer Polani, Francis returned with his wife and family to England, and established himself in London, where he at once took rank as one of the leading merchants. His fortune, however, was so large, that he had no occasion to continue in commerce, and he did so only to afford him a certain amount of occupation. His brother carried on the business in Venice, and became one of the leading citizens there, in partnership with Matteo Giustiniani. Every two or three years Francis made a voyage with his wife to Venice and spent some months there, and to the end of his life never broke off his close connection with the City of the Waters.