"If your Excellency will send a boat to a spot on the shore, directly opposite where we now are, to-morrow, at midnight, it will be easy for us to dispatch the sentinel and jump aboard," continued Carrera. "I will send the boat," answered the Englishman, "but will under no circumstances consent to any bloodshed. You forget your own recently-expressed scruples on the same subject." It was finally decided that the boat should be sent--that the captain should arrange some plan to divert the attention of the sentinel--and that to their rescuer alone should be left the choice of their destination. Matters being thus arranged, Carrera resumed his disguise, and conducted his guest homeward as far as the outskirts of the town. The following night at the appointed hour, a boat with muffled oars silently approached the designated spot. An officer, wrapped in a boat cloak was seated in the stern. As the boat drew near the shore, the sentinel presented his musket, and challenged the party. The officer, with an under-toned "_Amici_," sprang to the beach. A few hundred yards from the spot where the landing had been effected, stood an isolated house with a low verandah. The officer, slipping a scudo into the sentinel's hand, told him that he was come for the purpose of carrying off a young girl residing in that house, and begged him to assist him by making a clatter on the door at the opposite side, so as to divert the attention of the parents while he received his inamorata from the verandah. The credulous Neapolitan was delighted to have an opportunity to earn a scudo by so easy a service. The moment that he disappeared, Carrera and his band rushed to the boat. A few powerful strokes of the oars and they were out of the reach of musket-shot before the bewildered sentry could understand that in some way or other his credulity had been imposed upon. That night the "Tagus" weighed anchor for Malta. The port of destination was reached after a short and prosperous voyage. Sir George remained there only sufficiently long to discharge his precious cargo, who left him, as may be imagined, with protestations of eternal gratitude. The fact that the frigate was on a cruise prevented any particular surprise at her sudden disappearance from the waters of Naples. And when she returned to her anchorage after a short absence, even the party to the pic-nic were far from conjecturing that there was any connection between her last excursion and the adventure of Lake Agnano. Carrera and his band enlisted in a body into one of the Maltese regiments. A year or two later, becoming dissatisfied, they passed over into Albania, and took service with Ali Pasha. Some seven years after these events, Sir George Dundas was again at Naples. As he was lounging one day in the Villa Reale, a tall and noble-looking man, whose countenance seemed familiar, approached him. Shaking him warmly by the hand, the stranger whispered in his ear, "_Il suo servitore Carrera!_"