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"Ala e ala!" repeated they of the quarantine, first looking at each other in surprise, and then laughing, though in a perplexed and doubtful manner; "Ving-y-Ving!" This passed just as the lugger anchored and the crowd had begun to disperse.
All that has just been related may have occupied ten minutes; but the news reached Andrea Barrofaldi and his counsellors soon enough to allow them to appear on the promontory in time to see the Ving-y-Ving pass close under the cliffs beneath them, still keeping her English colors flying. Raoul was visible, trumpet in hand; but as the wind was light, his powerful voice sufficed to tell his story.
"Doubtless, Signor Tenente, you belong to ze Ving-y-Ving and are a subordinate of Sir Smees?" The young man looked surprised and at the same time half disposed to laugh, though a sense of decorum suppressed the latter inclination. "I belong to His Britannic Majesty's ship Proserpine, Signore," he dryly answered, "and know not what you mean by the Ving-y-Ving.
"To that of le Feu-Follet, or ze Ving-y-Ving," put in Griffin, who, now he had got the two functionaries fairly afloat, spared none of the jokes that come so easy and natural to a man-of-war's man. "She went out, too, in an 'extraordinary disappearance, and perhaps the lady and the lugger went out together."
"Ah! here is an officer sent from 'ze Ving-y-Ving' with some communication, friend Vito; it is fortunate you are still here to hear what he has to say. Show the lieutenant in, Pietro." One who understood Englishmen better than Andrea Barrofaldi would have been satisfied at a glance that he who now entered was really a native of that country.
Do you not know that this lugger was the notorious French privateer, le Feu-Follet?" "I know they say so now, Signori; but the vice-governatore and I supposed her to be ze Ving-y-Ving." "And do you not know that the prisoner is actually Raoul Yvard; of your own knowledge, I mean?" "Corpo di Bacco!
But Andrea was still too little of an English scholar to understand the blunder, and the Jack passed, with him, quite as currently as would "John," "Edward," or any other appellation. As to the Wing-and-Wing, all was right; though, as the words were pointed out and pronounced by both parties, one pertinaciously insisted on calling them "Ving-and-Ving," and the other, "Ving-y-Ving."
The zephyr again prevailed the idle once more issued forth for their sunset walk and the gossips were collecting to renew their conjectures and to start some new point in their already exhausted discussions, when a rumor spread through the place, like fire communicated to a train, that "ze Ving-y-Ving" was once more coming down on the weather side of the island, precisely as she had approached on the previous evening, with the confidence of a friend and the celerity of a bird.
"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."
"And you know now that this is Raoul Yvard, the French privateersman you have mentioned?" "Eh know? I know they say this is the Signor Yvard, and that ze Ving-y-Ving is le Feu-Follet." "They say will not do, Signor Barrofaldi. Can you not say this much of your own knowledge?" "Non, Signore."
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