Not to be kicked, they all began to chew like so many oxen, watching the waves that came rolling in from the open sea and spreading out without foam, those green billows that on a fair sunny day remind one of a black sky and a slate-colored sea.
“Padron Cipolla will be swearing roundly at us to-night,” said Uncle Cola; “but it isn’t our fault. In this fresh breeze there’s no chance of fish.”
First Goodman Mangiacarubbe let fly a kick at Uncle Cola, who had broken silence himself after declaring the forfeit, and then answered:
“Since we are here, we may as well leave the net out a while longer.”
“The tide is coming from the open; that will help us,” said Padron ’Ntoni.
“Ay, ay!” muttered Uncle Cola meanwhile.
Now that the silence was broken, Barabbas asked ’Ntoni Malavoglia for a stump of a cigar.
“I haven’t but one,” said ’Ntoni, without thinking of the recent quarrel, “but I’ll give you half of mine.”
The crew of the bark, leaning their backs against the bench, with hands behind their heads, hummed snatches of songs under their breath, each on his own account, to keep himself awake, for it was very difficult not to doze in the blazing sun; and Ba-rabbas snapped his fingers at the fish which leaped flashing out of the water.
“They have nothing to do,” said ’Ntoni, “and they amuse themselves by jumping about.”