The Joy of Captain Ribot

by Armando Palacio Valdés

I went away with my head in a whirl, and my heart torn and rent. The force I had used to appear cheerful upset my nerves, and I could not sleep. Poor Martí! Never had he seemed to me more hearty, more innocent, more worthy to be beloved. Not one word, not the most insignificant allusion to the treacherous actions of his friend Castell, nor the inhuman manner in which he had ruined him. And in the days following it was the same. His soul not only knew how to avoid filth like the feet of ladies, but did not believe in it.

I wrote to our shipping house to say that, for reasons of health, I wished to stay on land during the next voyage, and constituted myself companion and nurse to my unfortunate friend. I was seldom away from him. When I left him I saw a sadness in his eyes so sincere that I wished to stay. Every day he lost strength; I saw that he grew constantly weaker. He began to have cruel stiflings that threatened his life. While they lasted I fanned him, and Cristina bathed his temples. But when he came out of these attacks like a man who has succeeded in escaping an imminent peril and unexpectedly finds himself safe and sound, he would be talkative and gay, assuring us that very soon he would be able to go out into the streets and take up his business again.

His business! Neither illness nor ruin had been able to uproot his passion for projects and his liking for great industrial enterprises.

"If you could guess, Captain, the idea which I have had for days in my head!" he said to me once, looking at me with his candid eyes and pushing back his hair. "A grand project, and sensible, too, at the same time. At fifteen kilometres from Valencia there is a river that can be made to produce a waterfall of a thousand horse-power. Suppose that two hundred are lost in harnessing it, there would still be eight hundred, which, well distributed, would move almost all the industries of the city and give light to it all. Manufacturers and the city would save an enormous amount, and to become the owner of that waterfall would be a brilliant stroke of business. Because, as you can see——"

Here he took a paper, drew out a pencil, and set himself to scheming with figures with as much enthusiasm as if the operatives were already installing the great electric machine that was to distribute power to all the factories of Valencia, with so many horse-power and such and such qualities as if he had the magazine in the house.

Cristina and I exchanged a look over his head, and we knew not what to say. Formerly this passion had been his peril. Now it seemed to console him. So, not to go against him, we followed his fancy, and praised his project to the skies. This made him so happy that his cheeks burned and his glassy eyes shone with pleasure. Cristina could not control her emotion, and hastily left the room. I went on admiring the project warmly, so that he would not notice her going, and went so far as to promise to invest my small capital in the enterprise. With this his gayety came to an end. Quickly changing his expression, he pressed my hand, and, looking at me sorrowfully, exclaimed:

"No, Ribot, no! Although the affair is all plain enough, there might be some bad luck. I will not risk your capital!"

"There would not be any risk," I replied; "I would gladly put it in, because it seems to me that this is a sure thing."

"Absolutely sure!" he said, with the accent of unquenchable conviction, which at another time would have made me smile. "But I won't give you any shares in it until it is under way and has begun to pay dividends."

Poor Martí! He was going fast. His cheeks fell in, the circles under his eyes grew deeper; he passed his nights in coughing and his days in torment between pain and choking.