"Eighty tons." Then he examined the apparatus and the auxiliary machinery,--a petroleum motor which permitted it to make seven miles an hour whenever the sails did not find a breeze.
He had seen on the poop the name of the boat and its destination, guessing at once the class of navigation to which it was dedicated.

It was a Sicilian schooner from Trapani, built for fishing.

An artistic calker had sculptured a wooden cray-fish climbing over the rudder.

From the two sides of the prow dangled a double row of cray-fish carved with the innocent prolixity of medieval imagination.
Coming out of the hatchway, Ferragut saw half of the hold full of boxes.

He recognized this cargo; each one of these boxes contained two cans of gasoline.
"Very well," he said to the count, who had remained silent behind him, following him in all his evolutions.