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On the farthest projection of the jetty, where the storm surf was dashing highest against the outer rocks, stood Dolores, bareheaded, her face pale, clinging to siñá Tona, who was wild with anguish for her boy, her Pascualet, who was still out there!
That's not the way to treat a child! And since his mother don't dare open her head, and his father is actually the one to blame, his grandma must take a hand! I've come to get Pascualet and take him home with me. I won't allow such a thing. Pascualet! Pascualet! Your grandmother wants to see you."
Tonet, Dolores ... yes, even Pascualet ... if one of them laid a finger on his honor! "And wait a minute! A woman like that, to get even with Dolores, would slander her in public! But would she come to me intimate-like, all by ourselves. No, it would take courage to do that! She'd need to have good grounds ... Fool I was not to let her talk ... then I'd know the very worst!"
When the captain and the men were through eating, the leavings were for Pascualet and the other "cat," who had been standing by motionless and respectful during the meal. The two boys would sit down on the bow with black pots between their legs and loaves of bread under their arms.
By the time they were at the Sea Bridge, the captain was on the subject of his boat, as usual. That Mayflower of his could even make him forget he had a Dolores and a Pascualet! The next morning the bòu-fishing began, and all the vessels would go out. "But she's queen of the lot! We hitched the oxen on to her yesterday, and now she's in the water, anchored with the other boats in the harbor.
Caldera's wife saw her husband harness the cart and compel Pascualet to get into it. The boy, relieved of his pain, smiled assent, saying that now he felt nothing more than a slight twinge. When they returned to the cabin the father seemed to be more at ease. A doctor from the city had pricked Pascualet's sore.
But the laugh with which Rosario answered was the hollow, sarcastic, mocking laugh of a she-devil! Pascualo did not quite understand. What was there to laugh about in his saying that his boy was his boy? In terror he waited for her explanation. "Why, stupid! If Pascualet is your boy, he ought to look like you, oughtn't he, just as you look the way your father, old Pascualo, looked.
"Mare, Mare!" screamed Pascualet, clinging to the skirts of his beautiful mother, who, her dark skin pale as death, had drawn herself up to her full height preparing to throw herself upon her enemy. Rosario, meanwhile, was struggling to shake off a number of women who were holding her pinioned by her weak, flaccid arms. "What's going on here? At it again, eh?"
On that solemn occasion, which meant so much to him, which he had looked forward to for so long, he felt a strange return of his affection for the poor old woman. He forgot his beautiful wife and even Pascualet the rogue was as busy as could be with the cinnamon balls, up on deck to give all his attention to siñá Tona. "A full-fledged master, outfitter, owner of a boat my own boat!"
In front of the door of tio Paella's old place, now occupied by Pascualet, the villagers would sit in the open air all night sometimes, on low stools or on the ground, listening open-mouthed while the sailor told about the countries he had visited, embroidering his adventures with harmless embellishments to rouse greater thrills in his simple-minded audience.
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