So Ruggiero went away to find the Son of the Fool, and the Cripple, and to engage them for the summer, and to deliver to his brother the message from the Marchesa di Mola.  The reason why Ruggiero did not take Sebastiano as one of his own crew was a simple one.  There lived and still lives at Sorrento, a certain old man known as the Greek.  The Greek is old and infirm and has a vicious predilection for wine and cards, so that he is quite unfit for the sea.  But he owns a couple of smart sailing boats and gets a living by letting them to strangers.  It is necessary, however, to have at least one perfectly reliable man in charge of each, and so soon as the Children of the King had returned from their last long voyage the Greek had engaged them both for this purpose, as being in every way superior to the common run of boatmen who hung about the place waiting for jobs.  It was consequently impossible that the two brothers could be in the same boat’s crew during the summer.

Ruggiero found the Cripple asleep in the shade, having been out all night fishing, and the Son of the Fool was seated not far from him, plaiting sinnet for gaskets.  The two were inseparable, so far as their varied life permitted them to be together, and were generally to be found in the same crew.  Average able seamen both, much of the same height and build, broad, heavy fellows good at the oar, peaceable and uncomplaining.

While Ruggiero was talking with the one who was awake, his own brother appeared, and Ruggiero gave him the message, whereupon Sebastiano went off to array himself in his best before presenting himself to the Marchesa di Mola.  The Son of the Fool gathered up his work.

“Mola?” he repeated in a tone of inquiry.

Ruggiero nodded carelessly.

“A Sicilian lady who has a cutter?”

“Yes.”

“Her daughter is going to marry a certain Conte di San Miniato—­a great signore—­of those without soldi.”

The sailor coiled the plaited sinnet neatly over his bare arm, but looked up as Ruggiero uttered an exclamation.

“What is the matter with you?” he asked.

Ruggiero’s face was quite red and his broad chest heaved as he bit his lip and thrust his hands into his pockets.  His companion repeated his question.

“Nothing is the matter,” answered Ruggiero.  “Wake up the Cripple and see if there is everything for rigging the boat.  We must have her out this afternoon.  The Conte di San Miniato of whom you speak is our signore.”

“Oh!  I understand!” exclaimed the Son of the Fool.  “Well—­you need not be so anxious.  I daresay it is not true that he has no money, and at all events the Greek will pay us.”

“Of course, the Greek will pay us,” answered Ruggiero thoughtfully.  “I will be back in half an hour,” he added, turning away abruptly.