The ñaltaMartayMaríSeñorita de Morí's efforts to calm her friend were useless. It added no little to her fright to hear the shouts of the sailors, who in order to encourage each other and overcome the resistance of the waves, at each stroke of the oars shouted in chorus, yo-heave-oh![50],--yo-heave-oh! Every time that this exclamation rang through the air with its brutal rhythm, Rosario breathed a shriek of anguish; till the vivacious Señorita de Morí, fearing that she was getting ill, said to the sailors,--
"Gentlemen, will you have the goodness not to say yo-heave-oh! for it greatly frightens this young lady."
But Rosario, quite irritated and shedding a sea of tears, instantly exclaimed,--
"No, no; let them say yo-heave-oh! but let us perish quickly if we are going to!..."
Little by little, however, and seeing that the tremendous catastrophe did not take place, her nerves grew calmer, and before long she was laughing, giddy girl that she was, at her ridiculous fears.
In the Elorza falúa there was little talking. Don Mariano and Don Maximo were too full of medoc to feel like indulging in an animated conversation. The Señorita de Delgado, seconded by her sisters, admired the sunset with lively transports of enthusiasm, and with much opening and shutting of eyes. The Marquis of Peñalta had closed his, and seemed to be dozing with his cheek in his hand. One or two couples were whispering together.
What was Marta thinking about at that moment, her gaze fastened on the sea, serious, motionless, and pale as a statue? What black phantasms rose before her from the depths of the waters to trace in her fair brow the deep furrows with which it was corrugated? What deathly secrets whispered the breeze in her ear?
Ah! easier were it to unriddle the mystery in the murmurs of the ocean and the secrets of the breeze than the vague thoughts hidden behind a maiden's brow!
The sea once more tried to dispose itself for slumber; the crests of its waves no longer gleamed white from afar with their crown of foam; the horizon withdrew its indefinite line, which faded away in the twilight shadow. The smooth, swelling billows rose and fell like the indolent, tranquil breathing of a gigantic bosom. One by one, with lovely ease and confidence, the falúas, leaving them behind, swept onward to the port. The coast with its dark, undulating line girdled the luminous plain. Far in the distance inland, the peaks of the mountains could be seen bathed in a transparent violet haze.