Salvatore's keen eyes were upon him. He shook his head.
"Not yet. I—" He hesitated.
The still silver of the sea drew him. He touched his forehead with his hand and felt the dampness on it.
"I'm going in," he said.
"Can you swim, signore?"
"Yes, like a fish. Don't follow me with the boat. Just let me swim out and come back. If I want you I'll call. But don't follow me."
Salvatore nodded appreciatively. He liked a good swimmer, a real man of the sea.
"And don't wake Gaspare, or he'll be after me."
"Va bene!"
Maurice stripped off his clothes, all the time looking at the sea. Then he sat down on the gunwale of the boat with his feet in the water. Salvatore had stopped rowing. Gaspare still slept.