A sailor in scanty ragged clothes and the remains of a rush hat was standing barefoot in the burning sand, with an earthen jug in his hand.

A battered boat, from which all traces of paint had long since disappeared, was lying with her nose buried in the sand, not moving in the oily water.

Another man was in her, very much like the first in looks.
On seeing Nino at Ercole's heels, the man who was ashore drew back with an exclamation, as if he were going to run away, but Ercole spoke in a reassuring tone.
"Be not afraid," he said.

"This dog does not eat Christians.

He gets enough to eat at home.