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Forward, on the tip of the bow, Pascualet reared his diminutive and motionless manhood, looking more like a walrus than an eight-year-old boy, the figure-head of the boat, as it were.
They were fixed on Tonet, who had been trying to avoid their piercing gaze ever since the boat left shore. At times they would shift to little Pascualet, who was standing rigid at the foot of the mast, throwing his diminutive chest out in challenge to that sea, which, on his second voyage, was beginning to show its temper.
Pascualo cried. "I must speak, at last, tell you what I think of you, in just two words! You thought you had fooled me! But it was you I chased last night through the streets of the village. You had been with that foul woman ashore there! I am not going to kill you, because we're going to die together. But this boy here I used to call him my Pascualet is not to blame.
It was Dolores, leading Pascualet by the hand! They had at last forced their way through the crushing throng. The comely girl still had her usual pout of disdain as she looked at people and carried herself with her habitual queenly pride. The harlot! Yet how everybody made way for her and fawned upon her in spite of her conceit!
The women wept hopelessly. Death was certain. They only bewailed the long hours, perhaps days, of horrible torture that poor Pascualet would have to undergo. Caldera was unable to find among his relatives or friends any men brave enough to help him restrain the sufferer in his violent moments.
The Rector had grown up to be a lusty sailor, stingy of words, fearless in danger. From gato de barca he had graduated to the rank of able-bodied seaman and was the man of the crew on whom tio Borrasca most relied. Every month Pascualet handed four or five duros over to his mother to keep for him. Tonet was not settling down to any trade. A stubborn fight was going on between him and his mother.
Nothing but what Roseta had said, and hundreds of others, but just to worry him! The men on the beach always had jokes like that on each other, to make things lively. But it was just fun! Whereas that Rosario was trying to make trouble, she was! Spiteful as a mad cat! "Bosh, lies, lies! I stand by Dolores, through thick and thin! And that boy of ours! Pascualet, the little major!
Pascualet became a real mother to his younger brother. While siñá Tona was busy with the tavern, during the earliest days which had been the hard ones, the good-natured boy had carried the baby around with the tenderness of a nurse and had played with the young torments of the water front with that snarling squirming brat in his arms, who would bite and scratch when anything did not suit him.
All the huerta folk were running in terror to have a look at the poor creature; a spectacle that she herself did not dare to gaze upon because she was thinking of her own son. If her Pascualet, as tall and sturdy as a tower, were to meet with the same fate as that unfortunate child!...
One year when the drag-net season came around, the pesca del bòu, as the Valencians say, where two boats worked in team, Pascualet shipped with tio Borrasca as "cat," gato de barca, for his keep, and all he might make, in addition, from the cabets, the small fry, shrimp, sea-horses and so on, that came up in the nets from the bottom along with the big fish.
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