In a moment he was standing over
the oars and backing to the beach again for the boys to get in. They
stood above their knees in the warm water and handed him the chocks
before they got on board. He nodded as though satisfied, but said
nothing as he pulled away towards the rocky point. The lads sat silently
in the stern, wondering whither he was taking them. He certainly had
brought no fishing tackle with him. There was not even a torch and
harpoon aboard for spearing the fish. He pulled rapidly and steadily as
though he were going on an errand and were in a hurry, keeping close
under the high rocks as soon as he was clear of the reefs at the cape.
At last, nearly an hour after starting, the boys made out a great
deserted tower just ahead. Then Antonino stopped pulling, unshipped his
oars one after the other and muffled them just where the strap works on
the thole-pin, by binding bits of sailcloth round them. He produced the
canvas and the rope-yarn from his pockets, and the boys watched his
quick, workmanlike movements without understanding what he was doing.
When he began to pull again the oars made no noise against the tholes,
and he dipped the blades gently into the water, as he pulled past the
tower into the sheltered bay beyond.
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