It was only then that the king perceived that the boat which had brought
them to land had gone off again. The three ships which composed the
fleet, far from remaining to guard his landing, were sailing away at full
speed into the open sea.

The Maltese, Barbara, was going off not only with Murat's fortune, but
with his hopes likewise, his salvation, his very life. They could not
believe in such treachery, and the king took it for some manoeuvre of
seamanship, and seeing a fishing-boat drawn up on the beach on some nets,
he called to his two companions, "Launch that boat!"

They all began to push it down to the sea with the energy of despair, the
strength of agony.

No one had dared to leap from the rock in pursuit of them; their enemies,
forced to make a detour, left them a few moments of liberty.

But soon shouts were heard: Giorgio Pellegrino, Trenta Capelli, followed
by the whole population of Pizzo, rushed out about a hundred and fifty
paces from where Murat, Franceschetti, and Campana were straining
themselves to make the boat glide down the sand.

These cries were immediately followed by a volley. Campana fell, with a
bullet through his heart.

The boat, however, was launched. Franceschetti sprang into it, Murat was
about to follow, but he had not observed that the spurs of his
riding-boots had caught in the meshes of the net. The boat, yielding to
the push he gave it, glided away, and the king fell head foremost, with