Not bad for fifty francs, thought Ruggiero. And
San Miniato had asked about going after crabs by torchlight. This would
be the very boat for the purpose, for getting about in and out of the
rocks on which the crabs swarm at night. Black Rag might have earned
money with her. But Black Rag was rather a worthless fellow, who drank
too much wine, played too much at the public lottery and wasted his
substance on trifles.
Ruggiero's purchase was much discussed that evening and all the next day
by the sailors of the Piccola Marina. Some agreed that he had done well,
and some said that he had made a mistake, but Ruggiero said nothing and
paid no attention to the gossips. On the next day and the day after that
he was at work before dawn with Bastianello, and Black Rag was very much
surprised at the trim appearance of his old boat when the brothers at
last put her into the water and pulled themselves round the little
harbour to see whether the seams were all tight. But he pretended to put
a good face on the matter, and explained that there were more rotten
planks in her than any one knew of and that only the nails below the
water line were copper after all, and he predicted a short life for
Number Fifty Seven, when Ruggiero renewed the old licence in the little
harbour office.
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