rested one hand on the
gunwale, let his body droop forward, dropped into the water, paddled for
a moment, reached one of the floating corks, turned over head downwards,
describing a circle which showed his chocolate-colored back arched,
kicked up his feet and disappeared. The second man lounged lazily from
the boat into the sea and imitated him. The boy sat still and went
on singing. Vere felt disappointed. Was not he going to dive too? She
wanted him to dive. If she were that boy she would go in, she felt
sure of it, before the men. It must be lovely to sink down into the
underworld of the sea, to rifle from the rocks their fruit, that grew
thick as fruit on the trees. But the boy--he was lazy, good for nothing
but singing. She was half ashamed of him. Whimsically, and laughing to
herself at her own absurdity, she lifted her two hands, brown with the
sun, to her lips, and cried with all her might:

"Va dentro, pigro! Va dentro!"

As her voice died away, the boy stopped singing, sprang into the sea,
kicked up his feet and disappeared.

Vere was conscious of a thrill that was like a thrill of triumph.

"He obeyed me!" she thought.

A pleasant feeling of power came to her. From her eyrie on the rock she
was directing these strange sea doings. She was ruling over the men of
the sea.

The empty boat swayed softly on the water, but its three former
occupants were all hidden by the sea. It seemed as if they would never
come up again. Vere began to hold her breath as they were holding
theirs. At last a dark head rose above the surface, then another. The
two men paddled for a minute, drawing the air into their lungs. But the
boy did not reappear.

As the seconds passed, Vere began to feel proud of him. He was doing
that which she would have tried to do had she been a boy. He was
rivalling the men.

Another second slipped away--and another. He was more than rivalling, he
was beating the men.

They dived once more. She saw the sun gleam on their backs, which looked
polished as they turned slowly over, almost like brown porpoises.

But the boy remained hidden beneath the veil of water.

Vere began to feel anxious. What if some accident had happened? What
if he had been caught by the seaweed, or if his groping hand had been
retained by some crevice of the rock? There was a pain at her heart.
Her quick imagination was at work. It seemed to her as if she felt his
agony, took part in his struggle to regain his freedom.