Meanwhile the lure of the sea dragged him far from the classroom, prompting him to visit Uncle Caragol at the very hour that his professors were calling the roll and noting the students’ absence.

The old man and his protege used to betake themselves in the galley with the uneasy conscience of the guilty.  Steps and voices on deck always changed their topic of conversation.  “Hide yourself!” and Esteban would dodge under the table or hide in the provision-closet while the cook sallied forth with a seraphic countenance to meet the recent arrival.

Sometimes it was Toni, and the boy would then dare to come out, relying on his silence; for Toni liked him, too, and approved of his aversion to books.

If it was the captain who was coming to the boat for a few moments, Caragol would talk with him, obstructing the door with his bulk at the same time that he was smiling maliciously.

For Esteban the two most wonderful things in all the world were the sea and his father.  All those romantic heroes that had come from the pages of novels to take their place in his imagination had the face and ways of Captain Ferragut.

From babyhood he had seen his mother weeping occasionally in resigned sadness.  Years later, recognizing with the precocity of a little-watched boy the relations that exist between men and women, he suspected that all these tears must be caused by the flirtations and infidelities of the distant sailor.

He adored his mother with the passion of an only and spoiled child, but he admired the captain no less, excusing every fault that he might commit.  His father was the bravest and handsomest man in all the world.

And when rummaging one day through the drawers in his father’s stateroom, he chanced upon various photographs having the names of women from foreign countries, the lad’s admiration was greater still.  Everybody must have been madly in love with the captain of the Mare Nostrum.  Ay!  No matter what he might do when he became a man, he could never hope to equal this triumphant creature who had given him existence....

When the boat, on its return from Naples, arrived at Barcelona without its owner, Ferragut’s son did not feel any surprise.

Toni, who was always a man of few words, was very lavish with them on the present occasion.  Captain Ferragut had remained behind because of important business, but he would not be long in returning.  His second was looking for him at any moment.  Perhaps he would make the trip by land, in order to arrive sooner.

Esteban was astounded to see that his mother did not accept this absence as an insignificant event.  The good lady appeared greatly troubled and her eyes filled with tears.  Her feminine instinct made her suspect something ominous in her husband’s delay.

In the afternoon, when her old lover, the professor, visited her as usual, the two talked slowly with guarded words but with eyes of understanding and long intervals of silence.