It will be observed that Antonio talked good English. In fact, but for his complexion, hair, and eyes, no one would have taken him for a foreigner.
He was romantic too, though what his former life had been, or what adventures he had come through by land and at sea, Barclay could not even guess. He had yet to learn.
There was a pause in the conversation, and then suddenly Barclay burst out into a merry, happy laugh.
“How strange!” he said; “but how I should like to live in an old windmill!”
“Would you, dearie? Do you think your mammy would let you live with me and be my little companion? Oh, you should have plenty of freedom. I’m not quite a poor man, and one of these days, after I have finished my studies and sailed away to the pearl fisheries, I shall be very rich indeed. You love the sea?”
“O sir, I do, and I’ll be nothing but a sailor. Mother knows it. But dear mother is poor.”
The weird wee man turned and faced Barclay.
“The weekly wages I should give you, dearie, would help her to live in comfort.”
“Oh, that would be jolly!”
“And on fine days we would go far to sea in a sloop and fish. I should teach you to reef, and steer, and splice, and box the compass. I’d make a sailor of you before you went to sea.”