eement is yet to be made, and Ruggiero
makes calculations upon his fingers as he sits on the box in the
corridor. The Count wants a boat and three sailors by the month and if
he is pleased, will keep them all the season. It became sufficiently
clear to Ruggiero during the first interview that his future employer
did not know the difference between a barge and a felucca, and he has
had ocular demonstration that the Count cannot swim, for he has seen him
in the water by the bathing-houses--a thorough landsman at all points.
But there are two kinds of landsmen, those who are afraid, and those who
are not, as Ruggiero well knows. The first kind are amusing and the
sailors get more fun out of them than they know of; the second kind are
dangerous and are apt to get more out of the sailor than they pay for,
by bullying him and calling him a coward. But on the whole Ruggiero,
being naturally very daring and singularly indifferent to life as a
possession, hopes that San Miniato may turn out to be of the
unreasonably reckless rather than of the tiresomely timid class, and is
inclined to take his future master's courage for granted as he makes his
calculations.

"I will take the Son of the Fool and the Cripple," he mutters
decisively. "They are good men, and we can always have the Gull for a
help when we need four."

A promising crew, by the names, say you of the North, who do not
understand Southern ways. But in Sorrento and all down the coast, most
seafaring men get nicknames under which their real and legal
appellations disappear completely and are totally forgotten.

The Fool, whose son Ruggiero meant to engage, had earned his title in
bygone days by dancing an English hornpipe for the amusement of his
companions, the Gull owed his to the singular length and shape of his
nose, and the Cripple had in early youth worn a pair of over-tight
boots on Sundays, whereby he had limped sadly on the first day of every
week, for nearly two years. So that the crew were all sound in mind and
body in spite of their alarming names.

Ruggiero sat on the box and waited, meditating upon the probable
occupations of gentlemen who habitually slept till ten o'clock in the
morning and sometimes till twelve. From time to time he brushed an
almost imperceptible particle of dust from his very smart blue cloth
knees, and settled the in-turned collar of the perfectly new blue
guernsey about his neck. It was new, and it scratched him disagreeably,
but