Mare Nostrum (Our Sea) Part 54

They went a little way off with marked indecision, turning repeatedly to look at him once more. In a few moments one of them, the oldest, returned, approaching the table timidly.

"Excuse me, but aren't you Captain Ferragut?..." He asked this question in Valencian, with his right hand at his cap, ready to take it off.

Ulysses stopped his salutation and offered him a seat. Yes, he was Ferragut. What did he want?...

The man refused to sit down. He wished to tell him privately two special things. When the captain presented to him his mate as a man in whom they could have complete confidence, he then sat down. The two companions, breaking through the human current, were standing on the edge of the sidewalk, turning their backs to the cafe.

He was skipper of a small craft; Ferragut had not been mistaken. He was speaking slowly, as though taken up with his final revelation to which all that he was saying was merely an introduction.

"The times are not so bad.... Money is to be gained in the sea; more than ever. I am from Valencia.... We have brought three boats from there with wine and rice. A good trip, but it was necessary to navigate close to the coast, following the curve of the gulf, without venturing to pa.s.s from cape to cape for fear of the submarine.... I have met a submarine."

Ulysses suspected that these last words contained the real motive which had made the man, overcoming his timidity, venture to address him.

"It was not on this trip nor on the one before," continued the man of the sea. "I met it two days before last Christmas. In the winter I devote myself to fis.h.i.+ng. I am the owner of a pair of fis.h.i.+ng smacks.... We were near the island Columbretas when suddenly we saw a submarine appear near us. The Germans did not do us any harm; the only vexatious thing was that we had to give them a part of our fish for what they wished to give us. Then they ordered me to come aboard the deck of a submarine in order to meet the commander. He was a young fellow who could talk Castilian as I have heard it spoken over there in the Americas when I was a youngster sailing on a brigantine."

The man stopped, rather reserved, as though doubtful whether to continue his story.

"And what did the German say?" asked Ferragut, in order to encourage him to continue.

"Upon learning that I was a Valencian, he asked me if I was acquainted with you. He asked me about your steamer, wanting to know if it generally sailed along the Spanish coast. I replied that I knew you by name, no more, and then he ..."

The captain encouraged him with a smile on seeing that he was beginning to hesitate again.

"He spoke badly about me. Isn't that so?..."

"Yes, sir; very badly. He used ugly words. He said that he had an account to adjust with you and that he wished to be the first one to meet you. According to what he gave me to understand, the other submarines are hunting for you, too.... It is an order without doubt."

Ferragut and his mate exchanged a long look. Meanwhile the captain continued his explanations.

The two friends who were waiting a few steps off had seen the captain in Valencia and Barcelona many times. One of them had recognized him immediately; but the other was doubtful whether it might be he, and, as a matter of conscience, the old skipper had come back to give him this warning.

"We countrymen must help one another.... These are bad times!"

Seeing him standing, his two comrades now came up to Ferragut. "What would you like to drink?" He invited them to seat themselves at the table, but they were in a hurry. They were on their way to see the consignees of their boats.

"Now you know it, Captain," said the skipper on bidding him farewell.

"These demons are after you in order to pay you up for something in the past. You know what for.... Be very careful!"

The rest of the evening Ferragut and Toni talked very little together.

The two had exactly the same thought in their brain, but avoided putting it in shape because, as energetic men, they feared that some cowardly construction might be put upon such thoughts.

At nightfall when they returned to the steamer the pilot ventured to break the silence.

"Why do you not quit the sea?... You are rich. Besides, they'll give you whatever you ask for your s.h.i.+p. To-day boats are worth their weight in gold."

Ulysses shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't thinking of money. What good would that do him?... He wanted to pa.s.s the rest of his life on the sea, giving aid to the enemies of his enemies. He had a vengeance to fulfill.... Living on land, he would be abandoning this vengeance, though remembering his son with even greater intensity.

The mate was silent for a few moments.

"The enemies are so many," he then said in dismay. "We are so insignificant!... We only escaped by a few yards being sent to the bottom on our last trip. What has not happened yet will surely happen some day.... _They_ have sworn to do away with you; and they are many ... and they are at war. What could we do, we poor peaceable sailors?..."

Toni did not add anything further but his silent thoughts were divined by Ulysses.

He was thinking about his family over there in the _Marina_, enduring an existence of continual anxiety while he was aboard a vessel for which irresistible menace was lying in wait. He was thinking also of the wives and mothers of all the men of the crew who were suffering the same anguish. And Toni was asking himself for the first time whether Captain Ferragut had the right to drag them all to a sure death just because of his vengeful and crazy stubbornness.

"No; I have not the right," Ulysses told himself mentally.

But at the same time his mate, repentant of his former reflection, was affirming in a loud voice with heroic simplicity:

"If I counsel you to retire, it is for your own good; don't think it is because I am afraid.... I will follow you wherever you sail. I've got to die some time and it would be far better that it should be in the sea. The only thing that troubles me is worrying about my wife and children."

The captain continued walking in silence and, upon reaching his s.h.i.+p, spoke with brevity. "I was thinking of doing something that perhaps you would all like. Before next week your future will have been decided."

He pa.s.sed the following day on land. Twice he returned with some gentlemen who examined the steamer minutely, going down into the engine room and the holds. Some of these visitors appeared to be experts in matters pertaining to the sea.

"He wants to sell the boat," said Toni to himself.

And the mate began to repent of his counsels. Abandon the _Mare Nostrum_, the best of all the s.h.i.+ps on which he had ever sailed!... He accused himself of cowardice, believing that it was he who had impelled the captain to reach this decision. What were the two going to do on land when the steamer was the property of others?... Would he not have to sail on an inferior boat, running the same risks?... He decided to undo his work, and was about to counsel Ferragut again, declaring that his ideas were mere conjecture and that he must continue living as he was at present, when the captain gave the order for departure. The repairs were not yet entirely completed.

"We are going to Brest," said Ferragut laconically, "It's the last trip."

And the steamer put to sea without cargo as though going to fulfill a special mission.

"The last trip!" Toni admired his s.h.i.+p as though seeing it under a new light, discovering beauties. .h.i.therto unsuspected, lamenting like a lover the days that were running by so swiftly and the sad moment of separation that was approaching.

Never had the mate been so active in his vigilance. His seaman's superst.i.tion filled him with a certain terror. Just because it was the last voyage something horrible might occur to them. He paced the bridge for entire days, examining the sea, fearing the apparition of a periscope, varying the course in agreement with the captain, who was seeking less-frequented waters where the submarines could not expect to find any prey.

He breathed more freely upon entering one of the three semi-circular sea-ledges which enclose the roadstead of Brest. When they were anch.o.r.ed in this bit of sea, foggy and insecure, surrounded with black mountains, Toni awaited with anxiety the result of the captain's excursions ash.o.r.e.

During the entire course of the trip Ferragut had not been inclined to be confidential. The mate only knew that this voyage to Brest was the last. Who was going to be the new owner of the _Mare Nostrum_?...

One rainy evening, upon returning to the boat, Ulysses gave orders that they should hunt up the mate while he was shaking out his waterproof in the entry to the stateroom.

The roadstead was dark with its foamy waves, choppy and thick, leaping like sheep. The men-of-war were sending out smoke from their triple chimneys ready to confront the bad weather with their steam engines.

The s.h.i.+p, anch.o.r.ed in the commercial port, was dancing restlessly, tugging at its hawsers, with a mournful croaking. All the nearby boats were tossing in the same way, just as though they were out on the high seas.

Toni entered the saloon, and one look at the captain's face made him suspect that the moment for knowing the truth had arrived. Avoiding his glance, Ulysses told him curtly, trying to evade by the conciseness of his language all signs of emotion.

He had sold the s.h.i.+p to the French:--a rapid and magnificent piece of business.... Whoever would have said when he bought the _Mare Nostrum_ that some day they would give him such an enormous sum for it?... In no country could they find any vessels for sale. The invalids of the sea, rusting in the harbors as old iron, were now bringing fabulous prices.

Boats, aground and forgotten on remote coasts, were placed afloat for enterprises that were gaining millions by this resurrection. Others, submerged in tropical seas, had been brought up to the surface after a ten years' stay under the water, renewing their voyages. Every month a new s.h.i.+pyard sprang into existence, but the world war could never find enough vessels for the transportation of food and instruments of death.

Without any bargaining whatever, they had given Ferragut the price that he had exacted; fifteen hundred francs per ton,--four million and a half for the boat. And to this must be added the nearly two millions that it had gained in its voyages since the beginning of the war.

"I am rotten with money," concluded the captain.

And he said it sadly, remembering with a homesick longing the days of peace when he was wrestling with the problems of a badly paying business. But then his son was living. Of what avail was all this wealth that was a.s.saulting him on all sides as though it were going to crush him with its weight?... His wife would be able to lavish money with full hands on works of charity; she would be able to give her nieces the dowry suitable for daughters of high-born personages....

Nothing more! Neither he nor she could for one moment resuscitate their past. These useless riches could only bring him a certain tranquillity in thinking of the future of his wife, who was his entire family. She was at liberty henceforth to dispose freely of her existence. Cinta, on his death, would fall heir to millions.