‘NTONI went out to sea every blessed day, and had to row, tiring his back dreadfully. But when the sea was high, and fit to swallow them all at one gulp them, the Provvidenza, and everything else that boy had a heart as brave as the sea itself “Malavoglia blood!” said his grandfather; and it was fine to see him at work in a storm, with the wind whistling through his hair, while the bark sprang over the big waves like a porpoise in the spring.
The Provvidenza often ventured out into blue water, old and patched though she was, after that little handful of fish which was hard to find, now that the sea was swept from side to side as if with brooms. Even on those dark days when the clouds hung low over Agnone, and the horizon to the east was full of black shadows, the sail of the Provvi-denza might be seen like a white handkerchief against the leaden-colored sea, and everybody said that Padron ‘Ntoni’s people went out to look for trouble, like the old woman with a lamp.
Padron ‘Ntoni replied that he went out to look for bread; and when the corks disappeared one by one in the wide sea, gleaming green as grass, and the houses of Trezza looked like a little white spot, so far off were they, and there was nothing all around them but water, he began to talk to his grandsons in sheer pleasure. La Longa and the others would come down to the beach to meet them on the shore as soon as they saw the sail rounding the Fariglione; and when they too had been to look at the fish flashing through the nets, and looking as if the bottom of the boat were full of molten silver; and Padron ‘Ntoni replied before any one had asked, u Yes, a quintal or a quintal twenty-five” (generally right, even to an ounce); and then they’d sit talking about it all the evening, while the women pounded salt in the wooden mortars; and when they counted the little barrels ona by one, and Uncle Crucifix came in to see how they had got on, to make his offer, so, with his eyes shut; and Goosefoot came too, screaming and scolding about the right price, and the just price, and so on; then they didn’t mind his screaming, because, after all, it was a pity to quarrel with old friends; and then La Longa would go on counting out sou by sou the money which Goosefoot had brought in his handkerchief, saying, “ These are for the house; these are for the every-day expenses,” and so on. Mena would help, too, to pound the salt and to count the barrels, and she should get back her blue jacket and her coral necklace, that had been pawned to Uncle Crucifix; and the women could go back to their own church again, for if any young man happened to look after Mena, her dowry was getting ready.
“For my part,” said ‘Ntoni, rowing slowly, slowly round and round, so that the current should not drive him out of the circle of the net, while the old man pondered silently over all these things “ for my part, all I wish is that hussy Barbara may be left to gnaw her elbows when we have got back our own again, and may live to repent shutting the door in my face.”
“In the storm one knows the good pilot,” said the old man. “ When we are once more what we have always been, every one will bear a smooth face for us, and will open their doors to us once more.”
“There were two who did not shut their doors,” said Alessio, “ Nunziata and our cousin Anna.”
“’ In prison, in poverty, and in sickness one finds one’s friends’; for that may the Lord help them, too, and all the mouths they have to feed!”
“When Nunziata goes out on the downs to gather wood, or when the rolls of linen are too heavy for her, I go and help her too, poor little thing,” said Alessio.
“Come and help now to pull in this side, for this time Saint Francis has really sent us the gift of God!” and the boy pulled and puffed, with his feet braced against the side of the boat, so that one would have thought he was doing it all himself. Meanwhile ‘Ntoni lay stretched on the deck singing to himself, with his hands under his head, watching the white gulls flying against the blue sky, which had no end, it rose so pure and so high, and the Provvidenza rushed on the green waves rolling in from farther than the eye could see.
“What is the reason,” said Alessio, “ that the sea is sometimes blue and sometimes green and then white, then again black as the sand of the beach, and is never,all one color, as water should be?”
“It is the will of God,” replied the grandfather, “so the mariner can tell when he may safely put out to sea, and when it is best to stay on shore.”
“Those gulls have a fine time of it, flying in the air; they need not fear the waves when the wind is high.” ’
“But they have nothing to eat, either, poor beasts.”
“So every one has need of good weather, like Nunziata, who can’t go to the fountain when it rains,” concluded Alessio.
“Neither good nor bad weather lasts forever,” observed the old man.
But when bad weather came, and the mistral blew, and the corks went dancing on the water all day long as if the devil were playing the violin for them, or if the sea was white as milk, or bubbling up as if it were boiling, and the rain came pouring down upon them until evening, so that no wraps were proof against it, and the sea went frying all about them like oil in the pan, then it was another pair of shoes and ‘Ntoni was in no humor for singing, with his hood down to his nose, bailing out the Provvidenza, that filled faster than he could clear out the water, and the grandpapa went on repeating, “White sea, sirocco there’ll be!” or “Curly sea, fresh wind!” as if he had come there only to learn proverbs; and with these blessed proverbs, too, he’d stand in the evening at the window looking out for the weather, with his nose in the air, and say, “ When the moon is red it means wind; when it is clear, fine weather; when it is pale it means rain.”
“If you know it is going to rain,” said ‘Ntoni, one day, “ why do we go out, while we might stay in bed an hour or two longer?”
“i Water from the sky, sardines in the net,’ “ an-swered the old man.
Later on ‘Ntoni began to curse and swear, with the water half up to his knees.
“This evening,” said his grandfather, “ Maruzza will have a good fire ready for us, and we shall soon be quite dry.”
And at dusk when the Provvidenza, with her hull full of the gifts of God, turned towards home, with her sail puffing out like Donna Rosolina’s best pet-ticoat, and the lights of the village came twinkling one by one from behind the dark rocks as if they were beckoning to each other, Padron ‘Ntoni showed his boys the bright fire which burned in La Longa’s kitchen at the bottom of the tiny court in the nar-row black street; for the wall was low, and from the sea the whole house was visible, with the tiles built into a shed for the hens, and the oven on the other side of the door.
“Don’t you see what a blaze La Longa has got up for us?” said he, in high spirits; and La Longa was waiting for them, with the baskets ready. When they were brought back empty there wasn’t much talking; but instead, if there were not enough, and Alessio had to run up to the house for more, the grandfather would put his hands to his mouth and shout, “Mena! Oh, Mena!” And Mena knew well what it meant, and they all came down in procession she, Lia, and Nunziata, too, with all her chicks behind her; then there was great joy, and nobody minded cold or rain, and before the blazing fire they sat talking of the gifts of God which Saint Francis had sent them, and of what they would do with the money.
But in this desperate game men’s lives are risked for a few pounds of fish; and once the Malavoglia were within a hair’s-breadth of losing theirs all at once, as Bastianazzo had, for the sake of gain, when they were off Agnone as the day drew to a close, and the sky was so dark that they could not even see Etna, and the winds blew and swept up the waves so close about the boat that it seemed as if they had voices and could speak.
“Ugly weather,” said Padron ‘Ntoni. “ The wind turns like a silly wench’s head, and the face of the sea looks like Goosefoot’s when he is hatching some hateful trick,”
The sea was as black as the beach, though the sun had not yet gone down, and every now and then it hissed and seethed like a pot.
“Now the gulls have all gone to sleep,” said Alessio.
“By this time they ought to have lighted the bea-con at Catania,” said ‘Ntoni; “but I can’t see it.”
“Keep the rudder always north-east,” ordered the grandfather; “in half an hour it will be darker than an oven.”
“On such evenings as this it is better to be at Santuzza’s tavern.”
“Or asleep in your bed, eh?” said the old man; “then, you should be a clerk, like Don Silvestro.”
The poor old fellow had been groaning all day with pain. “The weather is going to change,” he said; “ I feel it in my bones.”
All of a sudden it grew so black that one couldn’t even see to swear. Only the waves, as they rolled past the Provvidenza, shone like grinning teeth ready to devour her; and no one dared spe.ak a word in presence of the sea, that moaned over all its waste of waters.
“I’ve an idea,” said ‘Ntoni, suddenly, “that we had better give the fish we’ve caught today to the devil.”
“Silence!” said his grandfather; and the stern voice out of that darkness made him shrink togeth-er like a leaf on the bench where he sat.
They heard the wind whistle in the sails of the Provvidenza, and the ropes ring like the strings of a guitar. Suddenly the wind began to scream like the steam-engine when the train comes out from the tunnel in the mountain above Trezza, and there came a great wave from nobody knew where, and the Provvidenza rattled like a sack of nuts, and sprang up into the air and then rolled over.
“Down with the sail down!” cried Padron ‘Ntoni. “ Cut away, cut away!”
‘NtonijWith the knife in his mouth, scrambled like a cat out on the yard, and standing on the very end to balance himself, hung over the howling waves that leaped up to swallow him.
“Hold on, hold on!” cried the old man to him, through all the thunder of the waves that strove to tear him down, and tossed about the Provvidenza and all that was inside her, and flung the boat on her side, so that the water was up to their knees. “Cut away, cut away!” called out the grandfather again.
“Sacrament!” exclaimed ‘Ntoni; “and what shall we do without the sail, then?”
“Stop swearing; we are in the hands of God now.”
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 an-other 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!”
“Yes, grandfather, I do,” replied the boy,
“Are you afraid?” asked ‘Ntoni.
“No, he’s not,” answered his grandfather for him; “but we must commend ourselves to God.”
“Holy devil!” exclaimed ‘Ntoni. “ Here one ought to have arms of iron, like the steam-engine. The sea is getting the best of it.”
The grandfather was silent, listening to the blast.
“Mamma must by this time have come to the shore to watch for us.”
Don’t talk about mamma now,” said the old man; “ it is better not to think about her.”
“Where are we now?” asked ‘Ntoni after some time, hardly able to speak for fatigue.
“In God’s hands,” answered the grandfather.
“Then let me cry!” exclaimed Alessio, who could bear it no longer; and he began to scream aloud and to call for his mother at the top of his voice, in the midst of the noise of the wind and of the sea, and neither of them had the heart to scold him.
“It’s all very well your howling, but nobody can hear you, and you had best be still,” said his broth-er at last, in a voice so changed and strange that he hardly knew it himself. “ Now hush!” he went on; “ it is best for you and best for us.”
“The sail!” ordered Padron ‘Ntoni. “ Put her head to the wind, and then leave it in the hands of God.”
The wind hindered them terribly, but at last they got the sail set, and the Provvidenza began to dance over the crests of the waves, leaning to one side like a wounded bird.
The Malavoglia kept close together on one side, clinging to the rail. At that moment no one spoke, for, when the sea speaks in that tone no one else dares to utter a word.
Only Padron ‘Ntoni said, “ Over there they are saying the rosary for us.”
And no one spoke again, and they flew along through the wild tempest and the night, that had come on as black as pitch.
“The light on the mole!” cried ‘Ntoni; “ do you see it?”
“To the right!” shouted Padron ‘Ntoni; “ to the right! It is not the light on the mole. We are driving on shore! Furl, furl!”
“I can’t,” cried ‘Ntoni; “ the rope’s too wet.” His voice was hardly to be heard through the storm, so tired he was. “ The knife, the knife! quick, Alessio!”
