een the Roca del Puig and the kelp grounds of Murviedro. Not a boat had dared go so far from home that day. The rest of the fleet could be dimly seen, strung out on the horiz

istled through the rigging. The Mayflower and its running mate kept on, however, under f

ver since the boat left shore. At times they would shift to little Pascualet, who was standing rigid at the foot of the mast, throwing his diminutive chest out in challenge to that sea, which, on his second voyage, was beginning to show its te

had been the night before, and he pressed his lips tightly together to hold in the angry words that were tingling on his tongue and gathering in his throat. God, how people must have been laughing at him! Look at the boy! The very same face, the very same ways! Who could mistake them? Pascualet was little Tonet all over again, the frail nervous child he had tended like a nurse-maid in the tavern-boat. No, that was

for him to live for. Die, then, and take with him to destruction all he had been working for! and the Mayflower, his other child, that he talked to as he would have to a daughter-yes, her, too, away with her, and perish with her the very memory of the swee

cualo smiled bitterly! What the devil did he care! Certainly, haul her in when you please! The crew began pulling at the cable that stretched from the lower edge of the net to either boat, and th

tip of the bow, where every dash of spr

alo! Look! There she c

g into a blackish vapor. The Rector had been watching the men hauling at the net. The little boy and T

man alive

Rector answered,

It's coming! It'

to rend the sky in twain, and the thunder crashed, as though a huge piece of canvas had been ripped asunder. And a moment

er by the keel and were trying to roll her over. The water came up over the lee rail almost to the hatches. Th

n. Freed from the pressure of the sail, the Mayflower came back to an even keel with the next wave. But Pascualo had had to let go the tiller, and the boat was wallowing in the trough, spinning round and round like a top in the boiling waters. The Rector was crawling back

every one of them and crashing down on her decks in a deafening roar. But she had done well, all the same. The Mayflower, too, must get free from the seine, and try to make Valencia. A knife was laid to the cable. It snapped at the next pitch of the vessel, which, with the tiller hard down, came roun

of those water-mountains caught her abeam, it would all be over in a second. Pascualo, upright, his feet glued to the deck, had his eyes on the waves ahead, studying every comber carefull

ow ... ah ..

rembling, staggering, she broke free. The crew, catching their breath from the terror of the moment, looked out after the great green mountain as it passed on. They saw it curve in a somber arch of emerald over the other craft, dismantled, that was drifting helpless before the storm. The enormous comber broke, l

imself and lowering his head. Tonet and the two sailo

ghastly moment of supreme peril. The deafening thunder claps followed one on the heels of the other. Chain-lightning hissed and snapped close by in all directions over the leaden sky, snakes of fire that seemed to be darting into the water to quench their flaming entrai

een offshore! This isn't going to last. These easterlies are always freakish things! But anyhow! What's the use of getting scared? It's a sailor's place to die at sea! I always sai

ler free, he crouched at the railing, bracing himself against a chock on the deck. A funereal silence settled on the Mayflower. The sea was now in such commotion that the kelp on the bottom showed its streamers in

mped off the Breakwater! But what right had he to drive all those innocent boys to death? What would the people at home say of him? It was his fault that half the fishermen had gone out in the very teeth of the gale that morning! And then, his other boat! Every soul aboard her lost, and because they had obeyed his orders like true fishermen! And how many other vessels had met the same fate? There was deep shame on his face as he looked at tio Batiste and the two sailors, lashed to the mast there and whipped and bleeding in the storm! He did not choose to look at his brother nor at Pascualet. Little it mattered if they should die-for at thought of them the thirst for vengeance flamed in him anew. But the other two, sons of mothers, old and dependent on them for support, and tio Batiste, who

o buck the storm. But how get into the harbor? That was the crucial effort in which so many came to grief. Ahead, just visible through the rain, the spray an

the struggle ahead. Not another sail was in sight. Many boats, perhaps, had gotten in. The rest were already lost On top of the Breakwa

dear ones in the fight to enter the harbor. Under the torrential downpour women kept coming on the run, the rain biting at their faces, the gale washing their skirts about and whistling in their ears. And they stood there on the rocks, their shawls soaked through, praying, screaming, raising their han

breasts, and suppliantly promising masses, candles, offerings, to the Virgin of Rosario and the Holy Christ of the Grao, addressing those miraculous beings pleadingly, intimately, as though the divinities were present in the flesh there before them. Dolores finally drew her shawl about her and crouched for shelter behind the outermost rock, the wash from the surf climbing up around her legs, but her eye

ng to their bodies; but absorbed in the enthralling horror of the spectacle, they were unconscious of the chill that was beginning to make their teeth chatter. A curse on the Rector's head! That cuckold was to blame for

hrong of the Breakwater was noticeably smaller. The harbor entrance had turned to a veritable hell of wind and wave and whirlpool. Three boats were still in sight, and for an hour, while the people ashore stood gripped in mad

le at the foot of the bare pole The sailors who had crept out to the most exposed rocks and were lying there on their stomachs to offer least exposure to the

ut into the water, and actually tried to reach one of the sea-swept boulders that stood out in the surf like heads of giants peering above the turmoil. And the sympathy and sorrow that misfortune brings to multitudes now turned to the two women. Curses at the Re

eed of encouragement in his anxi

e shouted. "What do you thi

Rector felt the strength for anything within him. "Well, if we can't get in, we'll hold offshore, by God! and ride her out!" "No, you can't do that. There's going to be two days of it, at least. The boat might stand the seas, but you can't beat against this blow. If you try to coast along, you'll strike at Cullera, and if you get by there, you'll fetch u

hemous obscenities. Danger, instead of crushing them, seemed to translate despair into raving impiety. The skipper shrugged his shoulders indifferently. A good Christian he was! If you didn't believe i

ntic undertow that broke to the surface in boiling seething whirlpools. The Mayflower, every timber in her sound and solid, creaked and strained in the new turmoil of conflicting forces. She was virtually unmanageable between the impact of the gale from astern and the water catching at her keel from

be drowned like rats in a trap, under the very eyes of your folks, and they unable to help you! Dog of a sea! Pig of a wind! And the Rector, to vent his impotent fury, spat at the wave

ut! Loo

blows were beg

ived the shock square on the back, but nothing, apparently, could loosen his iron grip from the tiller, nor pry his feet from the deck against which they were braced. He felt the water get deeper and de

s were. It was all as instantaneous as it was terrible. There was a cry. In spite of his courage in the face of terror, Pascualo could not stand this horrifying sight. With a groan of agony he buried his face in his hands. Like a mighty catapult, the barrel caught the youngest of the sailors on the head, and crushed him to pul

ere on the mast, where he remembered hearing that terrible groaning sound, when he was under water. And, in fact, the pole had been fractured and was leaning alarmingly. At the peak he could still see the sheaf of grass that had been hung up there for the christening and the bunch of dry flowers that the hurricane was whipping about at th

n the Rector gav

uge roller of black shining water was curling; and a back-wave just as high

cauldron; and when she came to the surface again, her deck was as level and clean as a scow's. The mast was off even with the flooring and had gone overboard, carrying

eal, the throng on the Breakwater gave one great groan of agony. "They

er over the rocks off the Breakwater. She did not touch, however, but drifted by so close that the Rector could recognize faces in the throng. What anguish! Able to reach them almost with your hand, ab

vision of life that gleamed in the darkness of his despair. No! He did not want to die! He would fight and fight to the last gasp. In the alternative of certain drownin

e next wave, he crawled along from the rail to a hatch that ha

ight live! That would be the worst punishment for her! Was there a bigger fraud in the world than life? No-he knew what a cheat life was! Death, death was the only honest thing, the thing that keeps all its promises and never lies! Death an

lashes through the Rector's mind, as though the imm

and uttered an exclamation of surprise. His brother had something in his hands. The life-preserver-the

ation his brother gave him. "What are you

take the hindmost! Think I'm going to drown here like

me, right here, and even then I

rly boyhood, the ragamuffin stranger to respect and consideration for

d, the two men

led faintly, tugging weakly at th

silent, grim, he let go the tiller, drew his knife from

he said, "th

ene gesture, and start

oul woman ashore there! I am not going to kill you, because we're going to die together. But this boy here-I used to call him my Pascualet-is not to blame. And I'm not going to let him die. He may get drowned, and that would b

an atrocious,

t mine. But it's eve

to finish. His brother was upon him. There was a quick des

the knife twice into his side. The Recto

form, picked him up like a bundle of laths, walked astern, and threw him overboard

ceased, and the lightning-flashes were more distant now, though the gale still held furious, and the waves were coming even higher than before. The sailors could not tel

ne last cry

, and was being turned end over end. She was seen for

nds laid hold on si?á Tona and Dolores,

ould see him now in the life-belt. But he would be smashed against the stones. The two women were screaming for he

ore. He jumped down to the low-lying rocks, and then farther out still, into the water

up against a sharp crag and then, to the dis

it, as a breaker was about to d

orm projecting from the big life-belt like a turtle from its shell. Si?á Tona tried to warm in her hands the little head whose eyes were closed forever. Dolores was kneeling at his side, digging h

eu! Fil

rted, the childless wife, tearful in the presence of that anguished

ow, proud and erect as Vengeance herself, towered the massive bony fr

ist she raised was menacing some one way off on shore there, where t

catastrophe! And the sea-witch shook her rough deformed knuckles at t

u down, and beat you down! And still they'll say fish comes high, the sc

E

THE SAM

rsemen of t

strum (

d an

The Fruit o

w of the

Triu

emies

in Re

repa

Argo

UTTON &