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Updated: June 21, 2025
The other boy, that lost soul Tonet, had turned out a regular waster that was the very word for him. And he never came home unless he was hungry. He had joined the ragamuffins along shore, a swarm of wharf rats that knew no more about their fathers than the homeless dogs who went with them on their raids.
A cataract had been removed from before his eyes, and he saw things clearly, though the world had a strange unfamiliar aspect for him, as it does to a blind man led forth for a first glimpse of it. Gospel truth! Pascualet was Tonet over again!
Then it was, some two years after Tonet had gone away, that the big surprise occurred. Dolores, gran diós! and the Rector, were getting married. The Cabañal sat up nights discussing the overwhelming piece of news. And she did the proposing, I'll have you know! And people added other spicy bits of information that kept the laughing going.
Then the windows were closed again, and the street relapsed into complete silence. The Rector had good eyes, trained to seeing far into the darkest nights. From his corner, the door of the house was quite visible. There he would stay till the sun came up, if need be. He would wait for his brother! His brother? No, for that dog of a Tonet!
Not much good at drudgery, but able to drink anybody under the table, and do it night after night, passing from dive to dive, and not showing his face at home for weeks at a time! Tonet had an intimate way of conducting his more serious love-affairs that made many people suspect him of anticipating legal ceremonies. But his mother took no stock in such reports.
Dominoes were rattling on the tables, and though everything was open to the air, the strong smell of gin and tobacco struck you in the face. Tonet had pleasant memories of the place the scene of his triumphs in generosity in the first months of his marriage to Rosario.
They are sure the Mayflower will keep you down on the shore all night. And Tonet is preparing to make himself at home in your place!" "Recristo!" The Rector raised his eyes to heaven, as he muttered the oath, in protest, it seemed, against the powers above who allow such things to happen to an honest man. But he was a stubborn fellow at bottom.
The life-preserver the gift of siñá Tona to the Mayflower which the Rector had laid away below and thereafter quite forgotten! Tonet did not quaver at the stare of execration his brother gave him. "What are you going to do with that?" the Rector shouted. "Going overboard! Every man for himself and the devil take the hindmost! Think I'm going to drown here like a rat in a trap?
The pretty daughter of tio Paella poked biting fun at that wreck she had for a sister-in-law, that old hen, quite passée, poor as a rat, a mere day laborer of the meanest kind, who couldn't hang on to the man she had married! Tonet, in fact, as in earlier days, was again following Dolores around like an obedient dog, sitting up when he was told to sit up, and charging when he was told to charge.
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.
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