“Oh, Goodman Alfio, what a hurry you’re in!” cried La Zuppidda, “I
wanted to ask you if the wine you’re taking to Santuzza is the same she
had last time.”
“I don’t know; they give me the wine in barrel.”
“That last was vinegar--only fit for salad--regular poison it was;
that’s the way Santuzza gets rich; and to cheat the better, she wears
the big medal of the Daughters of Mary on the front of her dress.
Nowadays whoever wants to get on must take to that trade; else they go
backward, like crabs, as the Malavoglia have. Now they have fished up
the _Provvidenza_, you know?”
“No; I was away, but Cousin Mena knew nothing of it.”
“They have just brought the news, and Padron ’Ntoni has gone off to
the Rotolo to see her towed in; he went as if he had got a new pair of
legs, the old fellow. Now, with the _Provvidenza_, the Malayoglia can
get back where they were before, and Mena will again be a good match.”
Alfio did not answer, for the Zuppidda was looking at him fixedly, with
her little yellow eyes, and he said he was in a hurry to take the wine
to Santuzza.
“He won’t tell me anything,” muttered the Zuppidda, “as if I hadn’t seen
them with my eyes. They want to hide the sun with a net.”
The _Provvidenza_ had been towed to shore, all smashed, just as she had
been found beyond the Cape of the Mills, with her nose among the rocks
and her keel in the air. In one moment the whole village was at the
shore, men and women together, and Padron ’Ntoni, mixed up with
the crowd, looked on like the rest. Some gave kicks to the poor
_Provvidenza_ to hear how she was cracked, as if she no longer belonged
to anybody, and the poor old man felt those kicks in his own stomach.
“A fine Providence you have!” said Don Franco to him, for he, too, had
come--in his shirt-sleeves and his great ugly hat, with his pipe in his
mouth--to look on.
“She’s only fit to burn,” concluded Padron For-tunato Cipolla; and
Goodman Mangiacarubbe, who understood those matters, said that the boat
must have gone down all of a sudden, without leaving time for those on
board to cry “Lord Jesus, help us!” for the sea had swept away sails,
masts, oars, everything, and hadn’t left a single bolt in its place.
“This was papa’s place, where there’s the new rowlock,” said Luca, who
had climbed over the side, “and here were the lupins, underneath.”
But of the lupins there was not one left; the sea had swept everything
clean away. For this reason Maruzza would not leave the house, and never
wanted to see the _Provvidenza_ again in her life.
“The hull will hold; something can be made of it yet,” pronounced Master
Zuppiddu, the calker, kicking the _Provvidenza_ too, with his great ugly
feet; “with three or four patches she can go to sea again; never be
fit for bad weather--a big wave would send her all to pieces--but for
‘long-shore fishing, and for fine weather, she’ll do very well.” Padron
Cipolla, Goodman Marigiacarubbe, and Cousin Cola stood by, listening in
silence.
“Yes,” said Padron Fortunato, at last. “It’s better than setting fire to
her.”
“I’m glad of it,” said Uncle Crucifix, who also stood looking on, with
his hands behind his back. “We are Christians, and should rejoice in
each other’s good-fortune. What says the proverb? ‘Wish well to thy
neighbor and thou wilt gain something for thyself.’”
The boys had installed themselves inside the _Provvidenza_, as well as
the other lads who insisted on climbing up into her, too. “When we have
mended the _Provvidenza_ properly,” said Alessio, “she will be like
Uncle Cola’s _Concetta_;” and they gave themselves no end of trouble
pushing and hauling at her, to get her down to the beach, before the
door of Master Zuppiddu, the calker, where there were the big stones to
keep the boats in place, and the great kettles for the tar, and heaps of
beams, and ribs and knees leaning against the wall. Alessio was always
at loggerheads with the other boys, who wanted to climb up into the
boat, and to help to fan the fire under the kettle of pitch, and when
they pushed him he would say, in a threatening whine:
“Wait till my brother ’Ntoni comes back!”
In fact ’Ntoni had sent in his papers and obtained his leave--although
Don Silvestro, the town-clerk, had assured him that if he would stay on
six months longer as a soldier he would liberate his brother Luca from
the conscription. But ’Ntoni wouldn’t stay even six days longer, now
that his father was dead; Luca would have done just as he did if that
misfortune had come upon him while he was away from home, and wouldn’t
have done another stroke of work if it hadn’t been for those dogs of
superiors.
“For my part,” said Luca, “I am quite willing to go for a soldier,
instead of ’Ntoni. Now, when he comes back, the _Provvidenza_ can put
to sea again, and there’ll be no need of anybody.”
“That fellow,” cried Padron ’Ntoni, with great pride, “is just like
his father Bastianazzo, who had a heart as big as the sea, and as kind
as the mercy of God.”
One evening Padron ’Ntoni came home panting with excitement,
exclaiming, “Here’s the letter; Goodman Cirino, the sacristan, gave it
to me as I came from taking the nets to Pappafave.”
La Longa turned quite pale for joy; and they all ran into the kitchen to
see the letter.
’Ntoni arrived, with his cap over one ear, and a shirt covered with
stars; and his mother couldn’t get enough of him, as the whole family
and all his friends followed him home from the station; in a moment the
house was full of people, just as it had been at the funeral of poor
Bastianazzo, whom nobody thought of now.
Some things nobody remembers but old people, so much so that La Locca
was always sitting before the Malavoglia house, against the wall,
waiting for her Menico, and turning her head this way and that at every
step that she heard passing up or down the alley.