CHAPTER XV.
"Sleep, sleep, thou sad one, on the sea; The wash of waters lulls thee now; His arm no more will pillow thee, Thy hand upon his brow; He is not near, to hurt thee, or to save: The ground is his--the sea must be thy grave." DANA.
A long summer's evening did the body of Francesco Caraccioli hang suspended at the yard-arm of the Minerva; a revolting spectacle to his countrymen and to most of the strangers who had been the witnesses of his end.

Then was it lowered into a boat, its feet loaded with a double-headed shot, and it was carried out a league or more into the bay and cast into the sea.

The revolting manner in which it rose to the surface and confronted its destroyers a fortnight later has passed into history; and, to this day, forms one of the marvels related by the ignorant and wonder-loving of that region[6].

As for Ghita, she disappeared no one knew how; Vito Viti and his companions being too much absorbed with the scene to note the tender and considerate manner in which Raoul rowed her off from a spectacle that could but be replete with horrors to one so situated.

Cuffe himself stood but a few minutes longer; but he directed his boat's crew to pull alongside of the Proserpine.