"To be frank with you, I do not, Signore. Ving-y-Ving is not English; nor do I know that it is Italian."
Mr. Griffin lost a good deal of ground by this assertion, which implied a doubt of Andrea's knowledge of foreign tongues.
"You say, Signor Tenente, if I comprehend your meaning, that Ving-y-Ving is not English?"
"Indeed I do, sir; at least no English that I have ever heard spoken, at sea or ashore; and we seamen have a language of our own."
"Will you, then, permit me to ask you what is the translation of _ala e ala_, word for word?"
The lieutenant paused a moment and pondered. Then he laughed involuntarily, checking himself almost immediately with an air of respect and gravity.
"I believe I now understand you, Signor Vice-governatore," he said; "we have a sea-phrase something like this, to describe a fore-and-aft vessel with her sails swinging off on both sides; but _we_ call it wing-and-wing."
"Si, Signore--ving-y-ving. Such is the name of the lugger of your king that now lies in our bay."
"Ah! we thought as much, Signori; the scoundrel has deceived you, as he has done a hundred before you, and will do a hundred again unless we catch him to-night. The lugger is a celebrated French privateer, that we have six cruisers in chase of at this moment, our own ship included. She is called le Feu-Follet, which is not Wing-and-Wing, but Will-o'-the-Wisp, or Jack-o'-Lantern, in English; and which you, in Italian, would call _il Fuoco Fatuo_. Her commander is Raoul Yvard than whom there is not a greater desperado sailing out of France; thought it is admitted that the fellow has some good--nay, some _noble_ qualities."
At every word uttered by the lieutenant, a page of history was blotted out from the memory of his listener. The vice-governatore had heard the name of Raoul Yvard, and even that of le Feu-Follet, which the malignancy of a bitter war had blackened nearly to the hues of piracy. The thought that he had been the dupe of this corsair--nay, that he had actually been entertaining him with honors and hospitality, within an hour--was almost too much for his philosophy. Men do not often submit to such humiliating sensations without a struggle; and before he would, or could, accord full credence to what was now told him, it was natural to oppose the objections that first offered.