“My grandson, Mynheer.”
The fisherman pointed out in the back of the baby’s cap the coloured button that showed its sex.
“He has been asleep in the boat … he sleeps all day.”
The baby collapsed rather than sat down on the wreaths of dry seaweed and stared stolidly at the Prince.
A couple of screaming sea-birds started up from the mist-drenched land and flew out across the grey depths of shrouded sea.
“The wind is getting up,” remarked the fisherman. “The boats will be able to put out to-night.”
William took no notice, he seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.
“Tell me what you think the Prince will do,” urged the fisherman, who was beginning to feel some awe of the stranger. “What kind of a man is he?” he added, jerking the nets across his knee.
The baby staggered to its feet, shaking a coral and silver ornament depending from its waist; it fell at once on its face, with an unchanged expression rose again and clutched at the Prince’s hand to steady itself.