The boatman was understood to say that the wind was rising and that it was going to be worse presently.
“Bellissima!” said Arthur, patting Dolly’s back.
The boatman was seized with solicitude for the lady.
Dolly surveyed the great cliffs that towered overhead and the frothy crests against which the boat smacked and lifted. “Bellissima,” she agreed, smiling at the boatman’s consternation. “Avanti!”
The boat plunged and ploughed its way for a little while in silence. The boatman suggested that things were getting dangerous. Could the signora swim?
Arthur assured him that she could swim like a fish.
And the capitano?
Arthur accepted his promotion cheerfully and assured the boatman that his swimming was only second to Dolly’s.
The boatman informed them that he himself could scarcely swim at all. He was not properly a seafaring man. He had come to Capri for his health; his lungs were weak. He had been a stonemason at Alessandria, but the dust had been bad for his lungs. He could not swim. He could not manage a boat very well in stormy weather. And he was an orphan.
“Io Orfano!” cried Arthur, greatly delighted, and stabbing himself with an elucidatory forefinger. “Io Orfano anche.”