Forward, on the tip of the bow, Pascualet reared his diminutive and motionless manhood, looking more like a walrus than an eight-year-old boy, the figure-head of the boat, as it were. Barefoot, and as dirty as could be, his shirt-tail out on one side and flapping in the wind, his breast exposed to the sea-air and as tanned and red as the bust of a statue of mud, he was the admiration of a crowd of little beach-combers, who had gathered round, hardly a stitch on their bronzed limbs, so lean and bony from a life-long diet of salt fish.
But what a catch the Rector had made! His boat loaded to the scuppers with squid, and at thirty cents a pound—you figure it up yourself! The penniless idlers on shore surveyed the wonder-worker as though a sea of dollars were pitching and tumbling out there beyond the surf. Chepa came down with his oxen, and the Mayflower began to climb the beach, grating along over the runners that had been laid under her bottom. Pascualo had jumped down from the deck and gone to Dolores, his face wreathed in smiles at sight of her standing there with her apron caught up to hold a peck or more of silver coins that represented her cash sales. Fairly good for two days' work, eh! A few trips like that and they'd have a pretty pile! And there was a good chance for the luck to hold! Old tio Batiste knew where the best places were!
But the Rector stopped and looked at his brother. The bandages on the injured hand had disappeared. So Tonet was in trim again already! That was good news to add to the good catch! He wouldn't miss the next sailing now! And he would see some real fishing, I'll tell you! Just the trouble of hauling them in, with your net full at every shot! "We'll be going out at sunrise, to-morrow morning, to make the best of this run, while it lasts!"
Dolores had sold everything; and she asked her husband if he would be going home. The Rector, however, could not say. He hated to leave the boat. The crew would be going off and getting drunk, let alone that bunch of little devils who would strip her clean of everything that could be carried the moment his back was turned. It would probably keep him busy till way into the night. If he wasn't home by nine o'clock, she had better go to bed. Tonet should go and get his pack ready and say good-by to Rosario; so as to be on the beach an hour before dawn. There would be no waiting in such times!
Dolores looked at her husband and then at Tonet. She said she would be going along. Pascualet did not want to go with her, when she called. He would rather stay down at the boat with papa. Dolores had to start off alone, and the two men stood gazing after her beautiful figure, as, with a graceful swinging of hips and shoulders, it vanished in the distance. Tonet hung-around till after dark, swapping stories and banter with tio Batiste, and discussing the great catch with the men of the crew. He did not leave till the "cat" began to get supper ready on board the Mayflower.
Left to himself, Pascualo began to walk up and down the beach, his hands stuffed into his sash, and the legs of his oilskins rasping noisily as they rubbed together. The shore was quite dark. Here and there a stove could be seen glowing on the deck of some boat, blinking as the figure of a sailor passed in front of it. The sea was shrouded in deep gloom, marked by an occasional flash of phosphorescence. The surf was trickling in with a barely audible moan. Softened by the distance came the voices of some "cats" singing as they made their way toward the Cabañal and stirred some dog to bark along the road. A faint band of reddish light still loitered above the horizon where the sun had sunk behind the housetops.
The Rector did not like that reddish after-glow. His experience at sea had taught him to see in it the signs of unsettled weather. But that thought did not concern him long. The joy of the successful trip was too insistent still. No, things were going well, weren't they! Few men in the world with more reason to be thankful than he! A pretty home! A delicious and a frugal wife! The prospect of building another boat, before the year was out, to go in team with the Mayflower! And then a boy after his own heart! Pascualet took to salt water like a mackerel! Why, in time that youngster would be the best captain along shore! Better off, far, than the happy man in the story who didn't have a shirt to his back! He wouldn't have to worry about cold weather—nor rainy days! And there would be a bit left over for old age!
Gloating over his good fortune, Pascualo quickened his lumbering pace as a corpulent sea-dog, and rubbed his hands with satisfaction. But in the darkness ahead of him a figure suddenly appeared, advancing slowly in his direction. Only a woman! Some beggar, probably, making the rounds of the fleet to pick up a spare fish here and there! And so it goes! How many poor devils there are in the world! Why shouldn't a fellow do a little something for one of them now and then! And the Rector's hand felt at a lump in the end of his sash where he had knotted a few silver coins along with a copper or two.
"Pascualo!" came the call. It was a soft, timid, hesitating voice. "Is that you, Pascualo?"
"Cristo! What a mistake! I took her for a beggar! And it's Rosario! Well, well! Looking for Tonet, I suppose! Now that's too bad! You've missed him! He's just gone home. He'll be there wanting his supper, and wondering where you are!"