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Updated: May 20, 2025
This had been when the Grao was no more than a group of huts far from the walls of Valencia and threatened by the raids of the Moorish pirates. For many years Caragol, barefooted, had carried this sacred ladder on his shoulder on the day of the fiesta.
Nothing more was needed to make Caragol regard him with the respect due to one born in a miraculous country. He made him describe many times the tomb of the saint, the only one in the transept of the cathedral, the moth-eaten tapestries that perpetuated his miracles, the silver bust which guarded his heart.... Furthermore, the principal portal of Vannes was called the gate of St.
Upon returning aboard, the mate would at once hunt Caragol, and both would comment on the changes in their chief. Toni had found him an entirely different man, with beard shaved, wearing his best clothes, and displaying in the arrangement of his person a most minute nicety, a decided wish to please.
I will redeem my word as best I can.... To-morrow you shall know certainly what we are going to do." The solar face of Caragol was beaming beatifically without seeing anything, without hearing anything. He had suspected something serious in the captain's arrival, his long interview alone with the mate, and the departure of the latter passing silent and scowling before the door of his galley.
"Uncle Caragol, we are growing old and we must think about retiring.... I am going to give you a paper; you will guard it just as though it were a sacred picture, and when you present it in Valencia they will give you ten thousand dollars. Do you know how much ten thousand dollars are?..."
It would be better to view from afar all that remained of his former existence. Caragol, meanwhile, was going on talking. His nephews would not remember the poor old cook and he had no reason to trouble himself about their fate, making them rich. He would prefer to remain just where he was, without money but happy. "Let the others go!" he said with childish selfishness.
Even Uncle Caragol was sticking his episcopal face out through the door of the kitchen, holding a hand closed in the form of a telescope to one of his eyes, without being able to distinguish clearly the announced marvel.
If it was the captain who was coming to the boat for a few moments, Caragol would talk with him, obstructing the door with his bulk at the same time that he was smiling maliciously. For Esteban the two most wonderful things in all the world were the sea and his father.
In spite of the vague hope for a jug of choice wine that was animating most of his hearers, a murmur of incredulity always arose at the end of this tale. The devout Caragol then became as wrathful and foul-mouthed as a prophet of old when he considered his faith in danger.
His great hairy hands helped her to arise, without making her repeat the protest that had repelled Toni. Conquered and bursting into tears, she appeared to yield to the paternal aid and counsel of the cook. "Up now, my good lady!" said Caragol. "A little more courage and don't cry any more.... There is some consolation for everything in this world."
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