With that liquid fire on his empty stomach, the Rector grew more and more emphatic as he talked on. His arms began to gesticulate, and his voice rose and rose, till his words were audible yards away.
"Is that you, Pascualo?" The call came from behind the curtains in Siñá Tona's stateroom, hoarse and halting, but affectionate withal.
"Yes, ma, it's me. Just going down to the boat to see what's going on. I wouldn't get up, just yet, if I were you. Going to be bad weather!"
In fact, daylight was now breaking, and along the horizon where the water darkened to a strip of black, another band, of faint livid light, was stretching. The sky was still overcast, and a thick fog was coming up the shore, softening the edges on trees and boats and houses, dimly visible in the brightening twilight.
"Well, one more glass, and that will do." And the Rector passed a calloused hand over his sister's cold cheek. "Good-by, girl! But remember what I say, you're the only decent woman in the Cabañal. It's your brother talking, Roseta. The only decent woman in the Cabañal, yes! And if a man asks you to marry him, say 'no,' say 'no.'"
Pascualo was whistling unconcernedly as he sauntered up to the Mayflower. You would have thought him the happiest man on earth, but for the yellowish glitter in his eyes, that seemed to be bulging from their sockets in his red face flushed with alcohol. In a conspicuous position on deck, and standing up full height to advertise the fact that he was there, Tonet was in full view—at his feet the white pack that had just been having such a dance of it through the dark streets of the Cabañal.
"Hello, Pascualo!" he called, the moment he spied his brother, at much pains apparently to start a conversation and dispel any suspicion the Rector might have. And could you beat that for impudence, the sneaking weasel! But before the Rector, who felt all the wild rage of a few hours previous boiling up anew, could answer, a crowd of sailors and skippers came running up. "What do you think of it, Pascualo?" they were calling. "Going to blow, do you think?" And they gathered around him, but without taking their eyes off the horizon. There was a scowl in that sky! Crazy to think of going out! And just their luck! Of course, it had to come then, when the fish were as thick as fleas outside, and you could pick them up with your hands! But after all, a man's hide is of more account than a dollar! They all agreed. Dirty weather ahead! Nothing to do but stick to cover.
But not so Pascualo. "Stick to cover, eh! Well, you fellows can stay ashore if you want to, and twirl your fingers. I'm going out, and right now. I never saw a blow yet that would keep me home, when I'd made up my mind to go. The woman folks ought to stay at home. But I like to see men and not cowards in the fish business." He spoke in a tone of voice that did not seem to invite argument, and as though the suggestion of his staying in had veiled an insult. He turned his back on the skippers around, to get away from them, get away from everybody, who might know, and ... laugh! "Into the water with her, boys!" And the oxen came out of the barn and down toward the shore. "Hey, Flor de Mayo there! Overboard, all hands, and get the skids down!"
The men in the crew obeyed their orders as they were trained to do, unquestioningly. Only tio Batiste raised a voice of protest, and he spoke with his full authority as a bull-dog of the sea.
"God, man, where are your eyes this morning! Don't you see the wind off there! Blowing like hell, man alive!"