air offered us his services, there was that guile in his
handsome face, that cunning in his dark eyes, that heart could not
resist, and we halted our carriage and took him at once.

He kept his boat in one of those caverns which honey-comb the cliff
under Sorrento, and afford a natural and admirable shelter for such
small craft as may be dragged up out of reach of the waves, and here I
bargained with him before finally agreeing to go with him to Capri.
In Italy it is customary for a public carrier when engaged to give
his employer as a pledge the sum agreed upon for the service, which is
returned with the amount due him, at the end, if the service has been
satisfactory; and I demanded of Antonino this _caparra_, as it is
called. "What _caparra_?" said he, lifting the lid of his wicked eye
with his forefinger, "this is the best _caparra_," meaning a face
as honest and trustworthy as the devil's. The stroke confirmed my
subjection to Antonino, and I took his boat without further parley,
declining even to feel the muscle of his boatmen's arms, which he
exposed to my touch in evidence that they were strong enough to row us
swiftly to Capri. The men were but two in number, but they tossed the
boat lightly into the surf, and then lifted me aboard, and rowed to
the little pier from which the ladies and T. got in.

The sun shone, the water danced and sparkled, and presently we raised
our sail, and took the gale that blew for Capri--an oblong height
rising ten miles beyond out of the heart of the azure gulf. On the way
thither there was little interest but that of natural beauty in the
bold, picturesque coast we skirted for some distance; though on
one mighty rock there were the ruins of a seaward-looking Temple of
Hercules, with arches of the unmistakable Roman masonry, below
which the receding waves rushed and poured over a jetting ledge in a
thunderous cataract.

Antonino did his best to entertain us, and lectured us unceasingly
upon his virtue and his wisdom, dwelling greatly on the propriety and
good policy of always speaking the truth. This spectacle of veracity
became intolerable after a while, and I was goaded to say: "Oh then,
if you never tell lies, you expect to go to Paradise." "Not at all,"
answered Antonino compassionately, "for I have sinned much. But the
lie doesn't go ahead" (_non va avanti_), added this Machiavelli of
boatmen; yet I think he was mistaken, for he deceived us with perfect
ease and admirable su