ng
obliged to wait weeks until the violence of the current sent by the
Atlantic should abate. Industrialism was born and inland factories sent
forward, over the recently-installed railroads, a downpour of products
that the fleets were transporting to all the Mediterranean towns.
Finally, upon the opening of the Isthmus of Suez, the city unfolded in
a prodigious way, becoming a world port, putting itself in touch with
the entire earth, multiplying its harbors, which became gigantic marine
sheepfolds where vessels of every flag were gathered together in herds.

The old port, boxed in the city, changed its aspect according to the
time and state of the atmosphere. On calm mornings it was a yellowish
green and smelled slightly of stale water,--organic water, animal
water. The oyster stands established on its wharfs appeared sprinkled
with this water impregnated by shell fish.

On the days of a strong wind the waters turned a terrible dark green,
forming choppy and continuous waves with a light yellowish foam. The
boats would begin to dance, creaking and tugging at their hawsers.
Between their hulls and the vertical surface of the wharfs would be
formed mountains of restless rubbish eaten underneath by the fish and
pecked above by the sea-gulls.

Ferragut saw the swift torpedo destroyers dancing at the slightest
undulation upon their cables of twisted steel, and examined the
improvised submarine-chasers, robust and short little steamers,
constructed for fishing, that carried quickfirers on their prows. All
these vessels were painted a metallic gray to make them
indistinguishable from the color of the water, and were going in and
out of the harbor like sentinels changing watch.

They mounted guard out on the high sea beyond the rocky and desert
islands that closed the bay of Marseilles, accosting the incoming ships
in order to recognize their nationality or running at full speed, with
their wisps of horizontal smoke toward the point where they expected to
surprise the periscope of the enemy hidden between two waters. There
was no weather bad enough to terrify them or make them drowsy. In the
wildest storms they kept the coast in view, leaping from wave to wave,
and only when others came to relieve them would they return to the old
port to rest a few hours at the entrance of the Cannebiere.

The narrow passageways of the right bank attracted Ferragut. This was
ancient Marseilles in which may still be seen some ruined palac