Ample food, firing, and shelter had restored their wasted frames, and assurance of victory had taken the place of the courage of despair.

A month of toil, hardship, and fighting had converted a mob of recruits into disciplined soldiers, and Zeno and Pisani seemed to have filled all with their own energy and courage.
Zeno, indeed, was so rash and fearless that he had innumerable escapes from death.
One evening after dusk his own vessel, having been accidentally torn from its anchorage near the Lova Fort by the force of the wind and currents, was driven across the passage against the enemy's forts, whence showers of missiles were poured into it.

One arrow pierced his throat.

Dragging it out, he continued to issue his orders for getting the galley off the shore--bade a seaman swim with a line to the moorings, and angrily rebuked those who, believing destruction to be inevitable, entreated him to strike his flag.

The sailor reached the moorings, and, with a line he had taken, made fast a strong rope to it, and the vessel was then hauled off into a place of safety.