Alessio, who was grasping the rudder with all his force, heard what his grandfather said, and began to scream, “Mamma, mamma, mamma!”
“Hush!” cried his brother, as well as he could for the knife in his teeth. “Hush, or I’ll give you a kick.”
“Make the holy sign, and be quiet,” echoed the grandfather, so that the boy dared not make another sound.
Suddenly the sail fell all at once in a heap, and ’Ntoni drew it in, furling it light, quick as a flash.
“You know your trade well, as your father did before you,” said his grandfather. “You, too, are a Malavoglia.”
The boat righted and gave one leap, then began to leap about again among the waves.
“This way the rudder, this way; now it wants a strong arm,” said Padron ’Ntoni; and though the boy, too, clung to it like a cat, the boat still sprang about, and there came great waves sweeping over it that drove them against the helm, with force enough nearly to knock the breath out of them both.
“The oars!” cried ’Ntoni; “pull hard, Alessio; you’re strong enough when it comes to eating; just now the oars are worth more than the helm.”
The boat creaked and groaned with the strain of the oars pulled by those strong young arms; the boy, standing with his feet braced against the deck, put all his soul into his oar as well as his brother.
“Hold hard!” cried the old man, who could hardly be heard at the other side of the boat, over the roaring of the wind and the waves. “Hold on, Alessio!”