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"Enrico Buonavista has made many children, and is proud of it, I can
tell you. He has ten--his father before him--"
"Then they are Neapolitans?"
"Neapolitans! No, Signore. They are from Mergellina."
Artois smiled. The tension which had surprised the sailor left his
face.
"I understand. But there is no Sicilian here called Buonavista?"
"A Sicilian, Signore? I never heard of one. Are there Buonavistas in
Sicily?"
"I have met with the name there once. But perhaps you can tell me of a
boy, one of the fishermen, called Ruffo?"
"Ruffo Scarla? You mean Ruffo Scarla, who fishes with Giuseppe--
Mandano Giuseppe, Signore?"
"It may be. A young fellow, a Sicilian by birth, I believe."
"Il Siciliano! Si, Signore. We call him that, but he has never been in
Sicily, and was born in America."
"That's the boy."
"Do you want him, Signore? But he is not here to-day. He is at sea
to-day."
"I did want to speak to him."
"But he is not a boatman, Signore. He does not go with the travellers.


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