More than anything else, he wished to renew his trips.
Boats were scarcer and more in demand all the time. It was high time to
stop this enforced inertia.

"Yes, it's high time," responded Toni who, during the entire month, had
only gone ashore twice.

The _Mare Nostrum_ left the repair dock coming to anchor opposite the
commercial wharf, shining and rejuvenated, with no imperfections
recalling her recent injuries.

One morning when the captain and his second were in the saloon under
the poop undecided whether to start that night--or wait four days
longer, as the owners of the cargo were requesting,--the third officer,
a young Andalusian, presented himself greatly excited by the piece of
news of which he was the bearer. A most beautiful and elegant lady (the
young man emphasized his admiration with these details) had just
arrived in a launch and, without asking permission, had climbed the
ladder, entering the vessel as though it were her own dwelling.

Toni felt his heart thump. His swarthy countenance became ashy pale.
"_Cristo!_... The woman from Naples!" He did not really know whether
she was from Naples; he had never seen her, but he was certain that she
was coming as a fatal impediment, as an unexpected calamity.... Just
when things were going so well, too!...

The captain whirled around in his arm chair, jumped up from the table,
and in two bounds was out on deck.

Something extraordinary was perturbing the crew. They, too, were all on
deck as though some powerful attraction had drawn them from the orlop,
from the depths of the hold, from the metallic corridors of the engine
rooms. Even Uncle Caragol was sticking his episcopal face out through
the door of the kitchen, holding a hand closed in the form of a
telescope to one of his eyes, without being able to distinguish clearly
the announced marvel.

Freya was a few steps away in a blue suit somewhat like a sailor's, as
though this visit to the ship necessitated the imitative elegance and
bearing of the multi-millionaires who live on their yachts. The seamen,
cleaning brass or polishing wood, were pretending extraordinary
occupations in order to get near her. They felt the necessity of being
in her atmosphere, of living in the perfumed air that enveloped her,
following her steps.

Upon seeing the captain, she simply extended her hand, as though she
might have seen him the day before.

"Do not object, Ferragut!... As I did not find you in the hotel, I fe