He was asleep in a short time and he dreamed of Africa when he was a boy and the long golden beaches and the white beaches,so white they hurt your eyes,and the high capes and the great brown mountains.He lived along that coast now every night and in his dreams he heard the surf roar and saw the native boats come riding through it.He smelled the tar and oakum of the deck as he slept and he smelled the smell of Africa that the land breeze brought at morning.
Usually when he smelled the land breeze he woke up and dressed to go and wake the boy.But tonight the smell of the land breeze came very early and he knew it was too early in his dream and went on dreaming to see the white peaks of the Islands rising from the sea and then he dreamed of the different harbors and roadsteads of the Canary Islands.
“Who gave this to you?”
“Sleep well old man.”
They walked down the road to the old man's shack and all along the road,in the dark,barefoot men were moving, carrying the masts of their boats.
They had coffee from condensed milk cans at an early morning place that served fishermen.
“Your stew is excellent,”the old man said.
“Baseball I think,”the boy said.“ Tell me about the great John J.McGraw.”He said Jota for J.