We lay for several days in the beautiful Bay of Naples to refit, and then stood across for Sicily, where we saw Mount Etna casting up fire and smoke, and afterwards coming off the island of Stromboli, we were well-nigh overwhelmed by the showers of ashes which fell on our deck, making the men believe that we were about to be overwhelmed, or that the day of judgment had come. Fellows who had never before prayed, fell down on their knees and cried for mercy. A breeze springing up, we got once more under the blue sky, and they quickly forgot their fears. Hitherto we had been sadly disappointed. Had the _Hector_ touched at any of the ports we had visited she would have been remembered, as she was, as Watkins had described her, a stout ship of peculiar build. We should have regretted losing him, as he might have been able to identify her, had not two of the men who remained served on board her, and they declared that should they set eyes on the old _Hector_ they should know her among a hundred such craft. We resolved, at all events, to continue our search as long as we had the means of procuring provisions and stores. We had no small difficulty, however, in keeping our unruly crew in order; accustomed as most of them had been to the corsair life, they longed for the excitement of the battle and chase, and murmured at the peaceable work in which we were engaged. We promised them, therefore, that they should have fighting enough should we fall in with an enemy to our country, and of such England had many by this time, Dutch, French and Spaniards, though the Italian princes and Portuguese wisely wished to keep on friendly terms. We had got some distance to the eastward of Malta, when a calm came on, and we lay with our canvas flapping against the masts, the sea shining like glass, and not a cloud overhead to dim the blue heavens or to shield our heads from the rays of the burning sun. The crew lay about the decks overcome by the heat, and grumbling at the idle life to which they were doomed. The red sun went down, and the pale moon rose, casting a silvery light over the slumbering ocean. Not a ripple broke the mirror-like surface of the deep. "We must give these fellows something to do, or they'll be brewing mischief," observed Lancelot, as we listened to the growling tones which came from forward. "Unless we turn corsairs, or fall in with a Hollander or a Don, I do not see what we can give them to do," answered Dick. "The chances are we shall not have long to wait, or we may encounter a storm. That will give them some occupation, especially if it carries away some of our spars," I observed, laughing.