Picola Marina, and strangers likely to take a share of it were commonly roughly handled: then he gave good-humoured assent to whatever had been asked of him and launched his boat into the breakers with the single force of his broad breast and brawny arms. He motioned the unknown fishermen to take the oars, with somewhat of a sullen grace, as though their advent still annoyed him; he took the helm himself; Erceldoune flung his limbs down across the benches; the little skiff put out to sea. Thus far the work was done.
As the boat left the shore he turned, rose slightly, and looked back at Capri: that mute farewell, that speechless witness of how his promise had been redeemed, smote her keenly.
She watched the movement of the boat through the waves, with tho daybreak light upon the stripes of its orange awning—watched it as it receded farther and farther, the tall figure of the Capriote standing at the stern, in his loose white shirt and his brown brigand-like Italian beauty—watched it till it swept out unarrested, unobserved, to where the yacht rocked at anchor.
The boat reached the vessel's side; a while longer, and the anchor weighed in the quiet of the dawn, whilst the only things that stirred on the whole
