en_, said the
sacristan; and don Santiago, with the Rector in front of him to clear
the way, and followed by the sacristan, amening every word, started
round the boat, showering Latin and holy water at every step.

Pascualo could not understand that the ceremonies were over. "See here,
don Santiago! There's the rigging still to do, and the deck, and then
down in the hold! There's a good fellow! It won't take you long ... and
I'll do what's right, you know!" And the curate, smiling at the
earnestness of the young man's plea, went up, finally, to the ladder
that had been set up against the _Mayflower's_ bilge, and began the
ascent, catching the floundering cope underneath his feet on every rung.
And the vestment of white and gold caught the afternoon sun and gleamed
afar like the shell of a bright climbing scarab. But when he had blessed
everything to the Rector's full content, he withdrew with his assistant,
and the throng rushed for the boat like an army storming a wall.

They would give her the right send-off, that crowd of bedraggled
loud-talking ragamuffins, the scrapings from the whole beach, already
besieging the sponsors with their petulant whining: "Our candy now, and
the almonds, the almonds!" "Senor" Mariano's face was beaming omnipotent
over the vessel's side. "Candy, eh! It's candy you want!" He well knew
what all the good things he had brought to eat had cost--one whole
_onza_--gold--to keep on good terms with nephew! And he bent over, and
sunk his hands into the baskets between his legs. "Well, candy it is!"
And he began to rain nuts and cinnamon lozenges, as hard as bullets,
upon the heads of the clamoring mob, and the young ones, girls and boys,
began to scramble on the sand, fighting for the goodies, dirty
underskirts squirming about among trousers with huge rents that showed
the bare scaly skins of the beach-combers underneath.

Tonet was uncorking bottles of gin and pointing them out to special
friends with lavish and condescending urgency as if he were doing the
honors himself. Liquor began to pass around by the jugful. Everybody was
drinking--the beach guards, their guns on their shoulders, retired
sea-captains from the village, men from other boats--barefoot, mostly,
these, and dressed in yellow baize, like clowns--and tiny "cats," with
knives of grotesque proportions thrust crosswise into the sashes about
their ragged waists.

The real carousal was going on up on deck. The planking of the
_Mayf