Salvé's blood boiled at the sight; but his indignation gave way
presently to astonishment when he saw the poor fellow get up and go on
indefatigably with his work, after first quietly wiping his own blood
off the saucepan. There was a limit to brutality, he thought, and in his
disgust he almost envied him the blow he had received.

He provided himself now from the purser with a suit of seaman's clothes
in lieu of the rather damaged cloth ones which he wore; and the
sailmaker gave him out hammock clothes, to be paid for out of his wages.
He proceeded then to hang his hammock from one of the beams between
decks; and while he was doing so observed another man in a canvas suit
like his own, similarly occupied, not far from him. He couldn't be
mistaken--it was Federigo.

The latter had, as Salvé afterwards heard, been taken by the police
during the affair in the tavern. He had seen how Salvé had been rescued
by the boatswain of the Stars and Stripes; and having managed to escape
from his captors on the way to the guard-house, he had sought a similar
refuge.

Salvé's indignation at his sister's baseness was still too fresh for
Federigo's reappearance to be in any way agreeable to him, although he
believed him to be innocent of any complicity in that business. At the
same time, the latter's conscience was apparently not entirely clear in
the matter, for there was a certain conscious sense of humiliation in
his expression, combined with something which made Salvé feel that he
must be upon his guard. Neither spoke to the other, and it might have
been supposed from their bearing towards one another that they had never
met before.