Before noon the man and boy rescued from the fishing-boat had recovered sufficiently to sit up. Their story was a thrilling one. Hythe’s knowledge of Italian enabled him to follow the patois without much difficulty. They had, in company with seven other craft, put out of Porto Empedocle, on the south coast of Sicily. It was a fine night with a light off-shore breeze, the weather being fair. Thus tempted they ventured farther from land than they were accustomed to. Shortly after midnight a strange phenomenon was observed. The stars were shining through a blood-red haze, while a strong sulphurous odour was noticed. The superstitious fishermen, frightened more by omens than by bad weather, prepared to return homewards, but the wind died completely away. At two in the morning a strong nor’easterly breeze sprang up, which soon developed into a cyclonic gale. Hastily reducing their canvas the fishing fleet drove at the mercy of wind and wave, till after ten minutes of great peril they found themselves once more becalmed in an agitated sea. Once more sail was hoisted, in anticipation of a favouring breeze. Suddenly the water seemed to be rent in twain. A deep trough appeared less than a hundred yards from the sternmost boat, and horror-stricken the terrified Italians found that their frail vessels were being sucked into the abyss. Then the cavity in the sea closed and instead a column of water, stones, mud, steam, and smoke was thrown up with tremendous force. The starlight gave place to inky blackness, and the next thing the _padrone_ of the "Favarganna"--that being the name of the craft belonging to the rescued man--realized that the doomed vessel was on her beam ends. She righted, though half filled with water. The old man had barely time to lash his grandson and himself to the rudder head, ere a huge wave swept the boat from stem to stern and down in the depths she plunged. Nor was old Beppo’s awe any the less when he heard from Hythe of the manner of his almost miraculous escape. Devoutly crossing himself the Italian burst into a torrent of thanks to his preservers, and finished up by asking where they thought of landing him? "I had thought of that," said Captain Restronguet when the sub interpreted the _padrone’s_ request. "Since there is now no real necessity for concealment, I think we might hail the first vessel we come across that is proceeding to Messina--if Messina still stands after the eruption." An opportunity presented itself late in the afternoon. The "Aphrodite" was about two hundred miles S.S.E. of Cape Passaro, and running on the surface, when a tramp steamer hove in sight steering N.W. "We’ll stop that fellow, Devoran," exclaimed the captain. "What does she look like?" "I cannot make out, sir, she flies no ensign," replied the chief officer, after a lengthy survey through his telescope.