comrades in no long time waxed very wealthy; their covetousness was
inordinate, and, while they sought to gratify it, they chanced in an
encounter with certain Saracen ships to be taken after a long defence,
and despoiled, and, most part of them, thrown into the sea by their
captors, who, after sinking his ship, took Martuccio with them to Tunis,
and clapped him in prison, and there kept him a long time in a very sad
plight.

Meanwhile, not by one or two, but by divers and not a few persons,
tidings reached Lipari that all that were with Martuccio aboard his bark
had perished in the sea. The damsel, whose grief on Martuccio's departure
had known no bounds, now hearing that he was dead with the rest, wept a
great while, and made up her mind to have done with life; but, lacking
the resolution to lay violent hands upon herself, she bethought her how
she might devote herself to death by some novel expedient. So one night
she stole out of her father's house, and hied her to the port, and there
by chance she found, lying a little apart from the other craft, a fishing
boat, which, as the owners had but just quitted her, was still equipped
with mast and sails and oars. Aboard which boat she forthwith got, and
being, like most of the women of the island, not altogether without
nautical skill, she rowed some distance out to sea, and then hoisted
sail, and cast away oars and tiller, and let the boat drift, deeming that
a boat without lading or steersman would certainly be either capsized by
the wind or dashed against some rock and broken in pieces, so that escape
she could not, even if she would, but must perforce drown. And so, her
head wrapped in a mantle, she stretched herself weeping on the floor of
the boat. But it fell out quite otherwise than she had conjectured: for,
the wind being from the north, and very equable, with next to no sea, the
boat kept an even keel, and next day about vespers bore her to land hard
by a city called Susa, full a hundred miles beyond Tunis. To the damsel