It must be some kind of a joke of Toni's; he's an excellent fellow but an enemy to holy things and likes to tease me because of my piety...." Ferragut laid aside his pen, swinging around toward the cook whose fate had troubled him as much as the first mate's.
"Uncle Caragol, we are growing old and we must think about retiring....
I am going to give you a paper; you will guard it just as though it were a sacred picture, and when you present it in Valencia they will give you ten thousand dollars.

Do you know how much ten thousand dollars are ?..." Bringing his mentality down to the level of this simple-minded man, he enjoyed tracing out for him a plan of living.

He could invest his capital in whatever modest enterprise in the port of Valencia might appeal to his fancy; he could establish a restaurant which would soon become famous for its Olympian rice dishes.

His nephews who were fishermen would receive him like a god.

He could also be partner in a couple of barks, dedicated to fishing for the _bou_.