said the fellow acting as clerk for those sitting
upon the case. "He must pay all the expenses to which Zeno has been
put, and there shall be no duel."

"My honor has been cleared," cried Zeno. "I must return to Greece."
There--strange as it might seem--he was at once named Governor of a
province, though not yet twenty-three. Events were going well with
him. But his wife died, he was cheated of his dowry by her relations,
and so he turned once more to Venice,--saddened, older and nearly
penniless. The wheel of fortune had turned badly for this leader of
fighting men and future general of white-winged galleons of the sea.

But now there was a really good fight--such a fight as all true
sailors love--a fight which tested the grit and courage of Zeno to the
full. It was the first of those heroic deeds of arms which shed
undying lustre on his name, and marked him as a seaman of the first
rank,--a captain of true courage, resources and ambition.

The Genoese (or inhabitants of Genoa) and the Venetians, were
continually at war in these days, and when--in patriotic zeal--Carlo
Zeno seized the island of Tenedos, the Venetian Senate, fearing lest
the Genoese would seek to recover the lost possession, sent a fleet of
fifteen ships to guard it, under one Pietro Mocenigo. There were also
two other vessels, one commanded by Carlo Zeno himself. The mass of
galleys floated on to Constantinople, for the Greeks had allied
themselves with the Genoese, had seized a Venetian man-of-war, which
had been captured, and had then retired. Three lumbering hulks were
left to protect the fair isle of Tenedos,--under Zeno, the war-like
Venetian.

"Aha," said a Genoese seaman. "There are but three galleys left to
save our isle of Tenedos. We shall soon take it with our superior
force. Forward, O sailors! We'll have revenge for the attack of the
wild men from Venice."

"On! on!" cried the Genoese seamen, and without further ado,
twenty-two galleys careened forward, their white sails bellying in the
wind, their hawsers groaning, spars creaking, and sailors chattering
like magpies on a May morning.

Carlo Zeno had only three hundred regular soldiers and a few archers,
but he occupied the suburbs of the town and waited for the attackers
to land. This they did in goodly numbers, for the sea was calm and
motionless, although it was the month of November.

"Men!" cried the intrepid Zeno, "you are few. The enemy are as
numerous as blades of grass.