The Call of the Blood - Page 142/317

Gaspare lay down in the bottom of the boat, buried his face in his arms,

and gave himself again to sleep. Salvatore looked at him, and then at

Maurice, and smiled with a fine irony.

"He thought he would win, signore."

"Cosa?" said Maurice, startled by the sound of a voice.

"He thought that he could play better than I, signore."

Salvatore closed one eye, and stuck his tongue a little out of the left

side of his mouth, then drew it in with a clicking noise.

"No one gets the better of me," he said. "They may try. Many have tried,

but in the end--"

He shook his head, took his right hand from the oar and flapped it up and

down, then brought it downward with force, as if beating some one, or

something, to his feet.

"I see," Maurice said, dully. "I see."

He thought to himself that he had been cleverer than Salvatore the

preceding night, but he felt no sense of triumph. He had divined the

fisherman's passion and turned it to his purpose. But what of that? Let

the man rejoice, if he could, in this dream. Let all men do what they

wished to do so long as he could be undisturbed. He looked again at the

sea, dropped his hand into it once more.

"Shall I let down a line, signore?"

Salvatore's keen eyes were upon him. He shook his head.

"Not yet. I--" He hesitated.

The still silver of the sea drew him. He touched his forehead with his

hand and felt the dampness on it.

"I'm going in," he said.

"Can you swim, signore?"

"Yes, like a fish. Don't follow me with the boat. Just let me swim out

and come back. If I want you I'll call. But don't follow me."

Salvatore nodded appreciatively. He liked a good swimmer, a real man of

the sea.

"And don't wake Gaspare, or he'll be after me."

"Va bene!"

Maurice stripped off his clothes, all the time looking at the sea. Then

he sat down on the gunwale of the boat with his feet in the water.

Salvatore had stopped rowing. Gaspare still slept.

It was curious to be going to give one's self to this silent silver thing

that waited so calmly for the gift. He felt a sort of dull voluptuousness

stealing over him as he stared at the water. He wanted to get away from

his companions, from the boat, to be quite alone with sirocco.