The weather, which had been alternately cloudy and sunny, now settled down into a dull grey evening: the whole sky became canopied by dusky vapour, which towards sunset was streaked with a pale stormy yellow; the saffron sun was seen for a few minutes, as it sank behind the hills of Oppido; and, as the light died away, the sea turned gloomy and black. The wind blew in gusts, and the billows rolled on the beach with a hollow sound: everything betokened a rough night; but the Maltese were ready for sea, and the warps were cast off. I had some misgivings about sailing in such weather, but concealed my anxiety. The other two craft, a xebecque and a sloop, remained at anchor; and their crews showed no sign of preparing for sea. I spoke of this to Maestro Maltei, and asked if he thought they expected rough weather. "Probably they do, signor," said he, removing his cigar, as we walked to and fro on the weather side of the quarter-deck; while the fleet schooner flew onward, straining under her bellying canvass. "The masters are timid Venetians, and the sailors tremble for their share of the cargo." "Then stormy weather _is_ expected?" "Doubtless we shall have a dirty night: but, having repaired all the damage done by that cursed shot, and, moreover, having received from my very good friend, the Basilian father, three sacred wax candles, which have burned before the shrine of Our Lady of Bova, after being duly blessed and sanctified by the Bishop of Cosenza——" "And with these——" "We light our binnacle, and no danger can overwhelm us." "On the faith of these you put to sea on a stormy night!—three old candle-ends——" "Undoubtedly, signor," said he, turning away abruptly, while I was equally annoyed by his folly and ignorance.