It was a long story that he had to tell when the Doge met him, and it must have been balm to the wounded heart of the former when he heard how Carlo had ravaged the Genoese coast, captured Genoese convoys, dislocated Genoese trade with the East, and, to crown his triumphs, had captured a Genoese galley off Rhodes, with half a million pieces of gold in it. Although he had been twice wounded, and, Pisani’s promise redeemed, there was no need of haste, he insisted upon being allowed to place himself opposite Buondolo. One night a storm sprang up of the Mediterranean sort, and the Genoese attempted to take advantage of it and break through the blockade to open sea; but Carlo drove them back again. It was during this action that his ship dragged her anchor and was driven in under the Genoese forts, and Carlo received an arrow through the throat, which all but killed him. He did not leave the deck, however, nor did he seem to pay the least attention to his wound, until his ship was clear again, when he had the misfortune to stumble over an open hatch and fall into the hold of the ship. Even then he had sufficient presence of mind to turn over on his face and let the blood run freely, thereby saving his life. It does not seem to have taken him long to recover from a wound which would have been the death of most men, for he was almost immediately made General-in-Chief of the land forces of the Republic—to be exact, on February 15—and he had received the wound some time either at the end of January or the beginning of February! Then it was that Zeno the leader appeared, as distinct from Zeno the fighter and tactician. By the capture of Lorado, Carlo had cut the Genoese off from their remaining base of supplies at Icomea, and all that remained to accomplish was the recapture of Chioggia itself, either by storm or siege. The former course having been decided upon, the famous Sir John Hawkwood was sent for—he whose name is a household word in Italy to this day, and his men were assembled at Palestina, an island in the near neighbourhood of Chioggia. But Sir John did not appear, and the unmilitary Venetians were faced with the necessity of finding a man who could first reduce the wild free-lances to some sort of order, and induce them afterwards to trust him as their leader. Fortunately these gentlemen were shut up on an island, which must have been a sweet place for any unfortunate natives who might have been there in those days, for Hawkwood’s men were drafted from half a dozen separate nationalities, most of whom were fighting each other in France and Germany at the time. The business of disciplining them was laid upon Carlo, as the only man who had had any experience of condottieri; brave as he was, he might well have shrunk from the task, as from entering a den of wild beasts, but he accepted it instantly, put on his armour, and had himself rowed over to the island.