"The little hunchback, whom I verily believe to be satan, possessed strength sufficient to wrench his fetters in two; he then stole the master-key from the belt of the boatswain, as he slept beside the windlass: it was handed along the banks of oars—up the larboard and down the starboard benches—each slave in succession unlocking his manacles, until it came to me; when I opened the accursed padlock, and flung it, fetters, key and all, into the ocean." "And these ruffians——" "Will form no mean recruit to Francatripa, Benincasa, or some of those other robber chiefs who divide the hills and forests of Calabria among them." At that moment we heard the splash of a quarter-boat, as it was hastily lowered down from the davits. "Signor," said Gismondo, rising, "the boat awaits you; and the sooner we separate the better. A den such as this, crowded with these poor wretches, whom servile labour and the lash have degraded to the condition of brutes, cannot be agreeable to one in the honourable station of a cavalier—a soldier—such as I once was in happier days. Adieu!" he pressed my hand, and led me to the side of the galley, where the boat was held close to the ladder by Frà Maso and three other slaves, who had chosen to land on that part of the coast. "You accompany me, of course, Signor Major?" said I. "Never! Broken in spirit—degraded as I am—this naked body—these scars: away, leave me to my misery! leave me! These poor men, at least, will not shrink from—adieu! Signor Dundas—adieu! Frà Maso—shove off!" Before descending into the boat, I was compelled to deliver up my watch and purse: my sabre-tache was searched, but returned to me when found to contain only military letters and papers. I should probably have been deprived of my epaulettes, but as they were my fighting pair, they had become so tarnished by smoke and weather, that the searchers allowed them to pass unnoticed. Gaspare Truffi had now succeeded poor little Guevarra in command of "His Majesty’s Galley," as the reward of his strength and cunning. He was seated in Madonna’s niche, on the poop, kicking his heels, swinging his long arms like the sails of a mill, shrieking, swearing, and drinking from a flask of lacrima, by turns. About twenty sweeps were manned; but the greater number of slaves were busy, rummaging every lockfast place in search of plunder. The night was black and stormy: not a star was visible, and the dark outline of the land rose up high and gloomily above us. We heard the boom of the white breakers, as they rolled on the rocky and silent shore; and their echoes mingled with the dash of the long sweeps, as the galley was pulled away and disappeared in the obscurity around us. When again I met the Signor Gismondo, it was under very different circumstances: more fortunate than myself, he reached Crotona next day, and was protected by the Duke di Bagnara; who gave him a command in his battalion of the Free Calabri.