CHAPTER I.
IN Malaga they cook it not at all badly; in Vigo better yet; in Bilbao I have eaten it deliciously seasoned on more than one occasion. But there is no comparison between any of these, or the way I have had it served in any of the other ports where I have been wont to touch, and the cooking of a Señora Ramona in a certain shop for wines and edibles called El Cometa, situated on the wharf at Gijon.
Therefore, when that most intelligent woman hears that the Urano has entered port, she begins to get her stewpans ready for my reception. I prefer to go alone and at night, like the selfish and luxurious being that I am. She sets my table for me in a corner of the back shop; and there, at my ease, I enjoy pleasures ineffable and have taken more than one indigestion.
I arrived the 9th of February, at eleven in the morning, and according to my custom I ate little, preparing myself by healthful abstinence for the ceremony of the evening. God willed otherwise. A little before the striking of the hour a heathen of a sailor broke a lantern; the burning wick fell upon a cask of petroleum and started a fire, which we got the better of by throwing the barrel overboard with several others. But the pilot-house was burned, together with much of the rigging and some of the upper works of the steamer. In short, the consequences kept us busy and on our feet nearly all night.
And this was the reason why I did not go to eat my dish of tripe at the Señora Ramona's, but notified her, by means of the speaking trumpet, to be ready for me that evening without fail.
It was about ten o'clock. Peaceful and contented, I descended the ladder of the Urano, jumped into a boat, and in four strokes of my boat-man's oars I was taken to the wharf, which stood deserted and shadowy. The hulls of the vessels could hardly be made out and absolute silence reigned on board them. Only the silhouette of the guards on their rounds or that of some melancholy-looking passer-by was vaguely outlined in the gloom. But the obscurity, that the few street-lamps were insufficient to dissipate, was soon enlivened by the wave of light that proceeded from the two open doorways of El Cometa. I fluttered away in that direction like an eager butterfly. There were only three or four customers left in the shop; the others had departed—some spontaneously, some because of intimations, each time more or less peremptory, given by Señora Ramona, who always closed up promptly at half after ten.
This woman greeted my appearance with a peal of laughter. I cannot say what curious and mysterious titillation affected her nerves in my presence; but I can affirm that she never saw me after an absence more or less prolonged without being violently shaken by merriment, which in turn inevitably resulted in severe attacks of coughing, inflaming her cheeks and transforming them from their hue of grainy red to violet. Yet I was profoundly gratified by that peal of laughter and that attack of coughing, considering them a pledge of unalterable friendship, and that I could count, in life and in death, upon her culinary accomplishments. On such occasions it was my duty to double my spine, shake my head, and laugh boisterously until Dame Ramona recovered herself. And I complied therewith religiously.
"Ay, but how good it was yesterday, Don Julian!"
"And why not to-day?"
"Because yesterday was yesterday, and to-day is to-day."