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It was midnight when the galley of the chief glided into the
harbor of Istria. The challenge of the sentinel was answered
from the vessel, and she took her place beside the shore, where
two other galleys were at anchor. Suddenly her sails descended
with a rattle; a voice hailed throughout the ship, was answered
from stem to stern, and a deep silence followed. The fierce
chief of the pirates, Pietro Barbaro — the fiercest, strongest,
wisest, yet youngest, of seven brothers, all devoted to the same
fearful employment — strode in silence to his cabin. Here,
throwing himself upon a couch, he prepared rather to rest his
limbs than to sleep. He had thoughts to keep him wakeful.
Wild hopes, and tenderer joys than his usual occupations offered,
were gleaming before his fancy. The light burned dimly in his
floating chamber, but the shapes of his imagination rose up before
his mind's eye not the less vividly because of the obscurity in
which he lay. Thus musing over expectations of most agreeable
and exciting aspect, he finally lapsed away in sleep.

He was suddenly aroused from slumber by a rude hand that
lay heavily on his shoulder.

“Who is it?” he asked of the intruder.

“Gamba,” was the answer.

“Thou, brother?”

“Ay,” continued the intruder, “and here are all of us.”

“Indeed! and wherefore come you? I would sleep — I am
weary. I must have rest.”

“Thou hast too much rest, Pietro,” said another of the brothers.
“It is that of which we complain — that of which we
would speak to thee now.”

“Ha! this is new language, brethren! Answer me — perhaps
I am not well awake — am I your captain, or not?”

“Thou art — the fact seems to be forgotten by no one but
thyself. Though the youngest of our mother's children, we
made thee our leader.”

“For what did ye this, my brothers, unless that I might command
ye?”

“For this, in truth, and this only, did we confer upon thee

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this authority. Thou hadst shown thyself worthy to command—”

“Well!”

“Thy skill — thy courage — thy fortitude —”

“In brief, ye thought me best fitted to command ye?”

“Yes.”

“Then I command ye hence! Leave me, and let me rest!”

“Nay, brother, but this can not be,” was the reply of another
of the intruders. “We must speak with thee while the
night serves us, lest thou hear worse things with the morrow.
Thou art, indeed, our captain; chosen because of thy qualities
of service, to conduct and counsel us; but we chose thee not
that thou shouldst sleep! Thou wert chosen that our enterprises
might be active and might lead to frequent profit.”

“Has it not been so?” demanded the chief.

“For a season it was so, and there was no complaint of
thee.”

“Who now complains?”

“Thy people — all!”

“And can ye not answer them?”

“No! for we ourselves need an answer! We. too, complain.”

“Of what complain ye?”

“That our enterprises profit us nothing.”

“Do ye not go forth in the galleys? Lead ye not, each of
you, an armed galley? Why is it that your enterprises profit
ye nothing?”

“Because of the lack of our captain.”

“And ye can do nothing without me; and because ye are incapable,
I must have no leisure for myself!”

“Nay, something more than this, Pietro. Our enterprises
avail us nothing, since you command that we no longer trouble
the argosies of Venice. Venice has become thy favorite. Thou
shieldest her only, when it is her merchants only who should
give us spoil. This, brother, is thy true offence. For this we
complain of thee; for this thy people complain of thee. They
are impoverished by thy new-born love for Venice, and they are
angry with thee. Brother, their purpose is to depose thee.”

“Ha! and ye—”

“We are men as well as brethren. We cherish no such

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attachment for Venice as that which seems to fill thy bosom.
When the question shall be taken in regard to thy office, our
voices shall be against thee, unless—”

There was a pause. It was broken by the chief.

“Well, speak out. What are your conditions?”

“Unless thou shalt consent to lead us on a great enterprise
against the Venetians. Hearken to us, Brother Pietro. Thou
knowest of the annual festival at Olivolo, when the marriage
takes place of all those maidens whose families are favorites of
the Signiory, and whose names are written in the `Book of Gold'
of the Republic.”

The eyes of the pirate chief involuntarily closed at the suggestion,
but his head nodded affirmatively. The speaker continued.

“It is now but a week when this festival takes place. On
this occasion assemble the great, the noble, and the wealthy of
the sea city. Thither they bring all that is gorgeous in their
apparel, all that is precious among their ornaments and decorations.
Nobility and wealth here strive together which shall
most gloriously display itself. Here, too, is the beauty of the
city — the virgins of Venice — the very choice among her flocks.
Could there be prize more fortunate? Could there be prize
more easy of attainment? The church of San Pietro di Castella
permits no armed men within its holy sanctuaries. There are
no apprehensions of peril; the people who gather to the rites
are wholly weaponless. They can offer no defence against our
assault; nor can this be foreseen. What place more lonely than
Olivolo? Thither shall we repair the day before the festival,
and shelter ourselves from scrutiny. At the moment when the
crowd is greatest, we will dart upon our prey. We lack women;
we desire wealth. Shall we fail in either, when we have in remembrance
the bold deeds of our ancient fathers, when they
looked with yearning on the fresh beauties of the Sabine virgins?
These Venetian beauties are our Sabines. Thou, too — if
the bruit of thy followers doth thee no injustice — thou, too, hast
been overcome by one of these. She will doubtless be present
at this festival. Make her thine, and fear not that each of thy
brethren will do justice to his tastes and thine own. Here, now,
thou hast all. Either thou agreest to that which thy people

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demand, or the power departs from thy keeping. Fabio becomes
our leader!”

There was a pause. At length the pirate-chief addressed his
brethren.

“Ye have spoken! ye threaten, too! This power of which
ye speak, is precious in your eyes. I value it not a zecchino;
and wert thou to depose me to-morrow, I should be the master
of ye in another month, did it please me to command a people
so capricious. But think not, though I speak to ye in this fashion,
that I deny your demand. I but speak thus to show ye that
I fear ye not. I will do as ye desire; but did not your own
wishes square evenly with mine own, I should bide the issue of
this struggle, though it were with knife to knife.”

“It matters not how thou feelest, or what moveth thee, Pietro,
so that thou dost as we demand. Thou wilt lead us to this
spoil?”

“I will.”

“It is enough. It will prove to thy people that they are
still the masters of the Lagune — that they are not sold to
Venice.”

“Leave me now.”

The brethren took their departure. When they had gone,
the chief spoke in brief soliloquy, thus:—

“Verily, there is the hand of fate in this. Methinks I see the
history once more, even as I beheld it in the magic liquor of the
Spanish Gipsy. Why thought I not of this before, dreaming
vainly like an idiot boy, as much in love with his music as himself,
who hopes by the tinkle of his guitar to win his beauty
from the palace of her noble sire, to the obscure retreats of his
gondola! These brethren shall not vex me. They are but the
creatures of my fate!”