Before Hugh could answer, the galley drew alongside some twenty ells away. Her oars churned the water into foam that splashed up to the oar-lock ports. Her decks were abristle with pointed Saracen helms and gleaming scimiters. In a cage atop of her one mast amidships three or four archers lurked. At a word of command shouted from her stern-castle, the oars were backed and her headway checked until she was travelling at the same pace as the cog. Dark, ferocious faces stared across the narrow gap of water at the helpless merchantman, but not a hand was raised to hurl a spear or draw a bow. The silence was broken by a hail. "Ho, Englishmen, is Messer Nicholas Dunning there?" A swart, stocky figure stepped to the railing of the galley's stern-castle. It was Messer Bartolommeo Caraducci. He waited expectantly, but Messer Nicholas cowered abjectly behind a water-butt under the stairs to the fore-castle. It was Hugh forced him from cover. "What would you, noble sir?" he quavered. "This: I am after a bigger prize than your beggarly cargo or the lives of your rascal crew. Give me what I want, and I let you go free." Messer Nicholas picked up courage. "I will pay any price in reason," he replied. "I want no price," the corsair roared back. "You have three voyagers on board. They are no friends of yours. I have an interest in them. Deliver them to me--or suffer me to come and take them--and I will do you no harm." Messer Nicholas hesitated and cast an evil look at his three passengers. "Careful, Messer Nicholas," said Hugh softly. "You are on dangerous ground." "Fair sir, I would do you no harm," clamoured the shipman. "Indeed, and I would not. But what choice is a man to make in such a case? I cannot sacrifice the lives of all my crew." At these words, his men rallied around him, obviously in complete agreement with his sentiments. Hugh tried again. "Your names would be infamous an it became known you had driven such a bargain," he declared. "More, you would be hung by the King's men." Messer Nicholas shook his head stubbornly. "I would rather chance that than certain death and torture. And we are not giving you up. It is only that we cannot protect you." The galley still kept abreast of the cog, gradually narrowing the distance between them. Her commander hailed impatiently. "Well, what say you, English dogs?" he cried. "Death and torment--by the Prophet's Beard, I will flay you alive, inch by inch!--or a fair bargain?" "We ag----" Messer Nicholas broke off his acceptance, as Matteo appeared on the poop, with a flaming torch in his hand.