Andrea Barrofaldi and Vito Viti stared, and that, too, as if a messenger had come from the lower regions to summon them away for their misdeeds. Lieutenant Griffin spoke unusually good Italian for a foreigner, and his manner of proceeding was so straightforward and direct as to carry with it every appearance of truth.
"You do not know what I mean by ze Ving-y-Ving?" demanded the vice-governatore, with emphasis.
"To be frank with you, I do not, Signore. Ving-y-Ving is not English; nor do I know that it is Italian."
Mr. Griffin lost a good deal of ground by this assertion, which implied a doubt of Andrea's knowledge of foreign tongues.
"You say, Signor Tenente, if I comprehend your meaning, that Ving-y-Ving is not English?"
"Indeed I do, sir; at least no English that I have ever heard spoken, at sea or ashore; and we seamen have a language of our own."
"Will you, then, permit me to ask you what is the translation of ala e ala, word for word?"
The lieutenant paused a moment and pondered. Then he laughed involuntarily, checking himself almost immediately with an air of respect and gravity.
"I believe I now understand you, Signor Vice-governatore," he said; "we have a sea-phrase something like this, to describe a fore-and-aft vessel with her sails swinging off on both sides; but we call it wing-and-wing."
"Si, Signore--ving-y-ving. Such is the name of the lugger of your king that now lies in our bay."