Toni drew himself up haughtily. Now it was he who was indignant.

"I have carried contraband, yes. And what is there astonishing about that?... Your grandparents did the same thing. There is not a single honorable sailor on our sea who has not committed this little offense.... Who is the worse for that?..."

The only one who could complain was the State, a vague personality whose whereabouts and place n.o.body knew and who daily experienced a million of similar violations. In the custom-houses Toni had seen the richest tourists eluding the vigilance of the employees in order to evade an insignificant payment. Every one down in his heart was a smuggler.... Besides, thanks to these fraudulent navigators, the poor were able to smoke better and more cheaply. Whom were they a.s.sa.s.sinating with their business?... How did Ferragut dare to compare these evasions of the law which never did anybody any harm with the job of aiding submarine pirates in continuing their crimes?...

The captain, disarmed by this simple logic, now appealed to his powers of persuasion.

"Toni, at least you will do it for me. Do it for my sake. We shall continue friends as we have always been. On some other occasion I'll sacrifice myself. Think.... I have given my word of honor."

And the mate, although much touched by his pleadings, replied dolefully:

"I cannot.... I cannot!"

He was anxious to say something more to round out his thought, and added:

"I'm a _Republican_...."

This profession of faith he brought forward as an insurmountable barrier, striking himself at the same time on the breast, in order to prove the hardness of the obstacle.

Ulysses felt tempted to laugh, as he had always done, at Toni's political affirmations. But the situation was not one for joking, and he continued talking in the hope of convincing him.

He had always loved liberty and been on the side opposed to despotism!... England was the great tyrant of the sea; she had provoked the war in order to strengthen her jurisdiction and if she should achieve the victory, her haughtiness would have no limit. Poor Germany had done nothing more than defend herself.... Ferragut repeated all that he had heard in the doctor's home, winding up in a tone of reproach:

"And are you on the side of the English, Toni? You, a man of advanced ideas?..."

The pilot scratched his beard with an expression of perplexity, searching for the elusive words. He knew what he ought to say. He had read it in the writings of gentlemen who knew quite as much as his captain; besides, he had thought a great deal about this matter in his solitary pacing on the bridge.

"I am where I ought to be. I am with France...."

He expressed this thought sluggishly, with stutterings and half-formed words. France was the country of the great Revolution, and for that reason he considered it as something to which he belonged, uniting its faith with that of his own person.

"And I do not need to say more. As to England...."

Here he made a pause like one who rests and gathers all his forces together for a difficult leap.

"There always has to be one nation on top," he continued. "We hardly amount to anything at present and, according to what I have read, Spain was once mistress of the entire world for a century and a half. Once we were everywhere; now we are in the soup. Then came France's turn. Now it is England's.... It doesn't bother me that one nation places itself above the rest. The thing that interests me is what that nation represents,--the fashion it, will set."

Ferragut was concentrating his attention in order to comprehend what Toni wished to say.

"If England triumphs," the pilot continued, "_Liberty_ will be the fashion. What does their haughtiness amount to with me, if there always has to be one dominating Nation?... The nations will surely copy the victor.... England, so they say, is really a republic that prefers to pay for the luxury of a king for its grand ceremonials. With her, peace would be inevitable, the government managed by the people, the disappearance of the great armies, the true civilization. If Germany triumphs, we shall live as though we were in barracks. Militarism will govern everything. We shall bring up our children, not that they may enjoy life, but that they may become soldiers and go forth to kill from their very youth. Might as the only Right, that is the German method,--a return to barbarous times under the mask of civilization."

He was silent an instant, as though mentally recapitulating all that he had said in order to convince himself that he had not left any forgotten idea in the corners of his cranium. Again he struck himself on the breast. Yes, he was where he ought to be, and it was impossible for him to obey his captain.

"I am a Republican!... I am a _Republican_!" he repeated energetically, as though having said that, there was nothing more to add.

Ferragut, not knowing how to answer this simple and solid enthusiasm, gave way to his temper.

"Get out, you brute!... I don't want to see you again, ungrateful wretch! I shall do the thing alone; I don't need you. It is enough for me to take my boat where it pleases me and to follow out my own pleasure. Be off with all the old lies with which you have crammed your cranium.... You blockhead!"

His wrath made him fall into his armchair, swinging his back toward the mate, hiding his head in his hands, in order to make him understand that with this scornful silence everything between them had come to an end.

Toni's eyes, growing constantly more distended and gla.s.sy, finally released a tear.... To separate thus, after a fraternal life in which the months were like years!...

He advanced timidly in order to take possession of one of Ferragut's soft, inert, inexpressive hands. Its cold contact made him hesitate. He felt inclined to yield.... But immediately he blotted out this weakness with a firm, crisp tone:

"Good-by, Ulysses!..."

The captain did not answer, letting him go away without the slightest word of farewell. The mate was already near the door when he stopped to say to him with a sad and affectionate expression:

"Do not fear that I shall say anything about this to anybody....

Everything remains between us two. I will make up some excuse in order that those aboard will not be surprised at my going."

He hesitated as though he were afraid to appear importunate, but he added:

"I advise you not to undertake that trip. I know how our men feel about these matters; you can't rely upon them. Even Uncle Caragol, who only concerns himself with his galley, will criticize you.... Perhaps they will obey you because you are the captain, but when they go ash.o.r.e, you will not be the master of their silence.... Believe me; do not attempt it. You are going to disgrace yourself. You well know for what cause.... Good-by, Ulysses!"

When the captain raised his head the pilot had already disappeared and solitude, with its deadly burden, soon weighed upon his thoughts. He felt afraid to carry out his plans without Toni's aid. It appeared to him that the chain of authority which united him to his men had been broken. The mate was carrying away a part of the prestige that Ferragut exercised over the crew. How could he explain his disappearance on the eve of an illegal voyage which exacted such great secrecy? How could he rely upon the silence of everybody?... He remained pensive a long time, then suddenly leaping up from his armchair, he went out on deck, shouting to the seamen:

"Where is Don Antonio? Go find him. Call him for me."

"_Don Antoni!... Don Antoni!_..." replied a string of voices from p.o.o.p to prow, while Uncle Caragol's head poked itself out of the door of his dominions.

"_Don Antoni_" appeared through the hatchway. He had been going all over the boat, after taking leave of his captain. Ferragut received him with averted face, avoiding his glance, and with a complex and contradictory gesture. He felt angry at being vanquished and the shame of weakness yet, allied to these sensations, was the instinctive grat.i.tude which one experiences upon being freed from an unwise step by a violent hand which mistreats and saves.

"You are to remain, Toni!" he said in a dull voice. "There is nothing to say. I will redeem my word as best I can.... To-morrow you shall know certainly what we are going to do."

The solar face of Caragol was beaming beatifically without seeing anything, without hearing anything. He had suspected something serious in the captain's arrival, his long interview alone with the mate, and the departure of the latter pa.s.sing silent and scowling before the door of his galley. Now the same presentiment advised him that a reconciliation between the two men whose figures he could only distinguish confusedly, must have taken place. Blessed be the Christ of the Grao!... And upon learning that the captain would remain aboard until afternoon, he set himself to the confection of one of his masterly rice-dishes in order to solemnize the return of peace.

A little before sunset Ulysses again found himself with his mistress in the hotel. He had returned to land, nervous and uneasy. His uneasiness made him fear this interview while at the same time he wished it.

"Out with it! I am not a child to feel such fears," he said to himself upon entering his room and finding Freya awaiting him.

He spoke to her with the brusqueness of one who wishes to conclude everything quickly.... "I could not undertake the service that the doctor asked. I take back my word. The mate on board would not consent to it."

Her wrath burst forth without any finesse, with the frankness of intimacy. She always hated Toni. "Hideous old faun!..." From the very first moment she had suspected that he would prove an enemy.

"But you are master of your own boat," she continued. "You can do what you want to, and you don't need his permission to sail."

When Ulysses furthermore said that he was not sure of his crew either, and that the voyage was impossible, the woman again became furious at him. She appeared to have grown suddenly ten years older. To the sailor she seemed to have another face, of an ashy pallor, with furrowed brows, eyes filled with angry tears, and a light foam in the corners of her mouth.

"Braggart.... Fraud.... Southerner! Meridional!"

Ulysses tried to calm her. It might be possible to find another boat.

He would try to help them find another. He was going to send the _Mare Nostrum_ to await him in Barcelona, and he himself would stay in Naples, just as long as she wished him to.

"Buffoon!... And I believed in you! And I yielded myself to you, believing you to be a hero, believing your offer of sacrifice to be the truth!..."

She marched off, furious, giving the door a spiteful slam.