They were more friendly than on land, although they exchanged very few words.

The common life lessened the haughtiness of the pretended diplomat and enabled the captain to discover new merits in his personality.

The freedom with which he was going through the boat, and certain technical words employed against his will, left no doubt in Ferragut's mind regarding his true profession.
"You are in the navy," he said suddenly.
And the count assented, judging dissimulation useless.
Yes, he was a naval officer.
"Then what am I doing here?
Why have you given the command to me ?..." So Ferragut was thinking without discovering why this man should seek his assistance when he could direct a boat himself, without any outside aid.
Undoubtedly he was a naval officer, and all the blonde sailors that were working like automatons must also have come from some fleet.
Discipline was making them respect Ferragut's orders, but the captain suspected that for them he was merely a proxy, the true chief on board being the count.
The schooner passed within sight of the Liparian archipelago; then, twisting its course toward the west, followed the coast of Sicily, from Cape Gallo to the Cape of Vito.

From there it turned its prow to the southeast, heading toward the Aegadian Islands.
It had to wait in the waters where the Mediterranean was beginning to narrow between Tunis and Sicily, where the volcanic peak of the Pantellarian Island rises up in the middle of the immense strait.
Brief indications from the count were sufficient to make the course followed by Ferragut in accordance with his desire.

He finally could not hide his admiration for the Spaniard's mastery of navigation.
"You know your sea well," said the count.
The captain shrugged his shoulders, smiling.