ice somewhat provokingly, and, going
below, was in a deep sleep in ten minutes.

CHAPTER XX.

"White as a white sail on a dusky sea.
When half the horizon's clouded and half free,
Fluttering between the dim wave and the sky
Is hope's last gleam in man's extremity."

_The Island._

The dawning of day, on the morning which succeeded, was a moment of
great interest on board the different English ships which then lay off
the Gulf of Salerno. Cuffe and Lyon were called, according to especial
orders left by themselves, while even Sir Frederick Dashwood allowed
himself to be awakened, to hear the report of the officer of the watch.
The first was up quite half an hour before the light appeared. He even
went into the maintop again, in order to get as early and as wide a
survey of the horizon as he wished. Griffin went aloft with him, and
together they stood leaning against the topmast rigging, watching the
slow approach of those rays which gradually diffused themselves over the
whole of a panorama that was as bewitching as the hour and the lovely
accessories of an Italian landscape could render it.

"I see nothing _in-shore_," exclaimed Cuffe, in a tone of
disappointment, when the light permitted a tolerable view of the coast.
"If she should be _outside_ of us our work will be only half done!"

"There is a white speck close in with the land, _sir_," returned
Griffin; "here, In the direction of those ruins, of which our gentlemen
that have been round in the boats to look at, tell such marvels; I
believe, however, it is only a felucca or a sparanara. There is a peak
to the sail that does not look lugger-fashion."

"What is this, off here at the northwest, Griffin?--Is it too large for
the le Few-Folly?"

"That must be the Terpsichore, sir. It's just where she _ought_ to be,
as I understand the orders; and I suppose Sir Frederick has carried her
there. But yonder's a sail, in the northern board, which may turn out to
be the lugger; she is fairly within Campanella, and is not far from the
north shore of the bay."

"By George!--that _must_ be she; Monsieur Yvard has kept her skulking
round and about Amalfi, all this time! Let us go down, and set
everything that will draw, at once, sir."

In two minutes Griffin was on deck, hauling the yards, and clearing away
to make sail. As usual, the wind was light at the southward again, and
the course would be nearly before it. Studding-sail booms were t