send it to England in order to load
it with munitions destined for the army of the Orient.

The morning of its departure he went ashore without any thought of
going to the center of the city.

In one of the wharf streets there was a barber shop frequented by
Spanish captains. The picturesque chatter of the barber, born in
Cartagena, the gay, brilliant chromos on the walls representing
bullfights, the newspapers from Madrid, forgotten on the divans, and a
guitar in one corner made this shop a little bit of Spain for the
rovers of the Mediterranean.

Before sailing, Ferragut wished to have his beard clipped by this
verbose master. When, an hour later, he left the barber-shop, tearing
himself away from the interminable farewells of the proprietor, he
passed down a broad street, lonely and silent, between two rows of
docks.

The steel-barred gates were closed and locked. The warehouses, empty
and resounding as the naves of a cathedral, still exhaled the strong
odors of the wares which they had kept in times of peace,--vanilla,
cinnamon, rolls of leather, nitrates and phosphates for chemical
fertilizers.

In all the long street he saw only one man, coming toward him with his
back to the inner harbor. Between the two long walls of brick appeared
in the background the wharf with its mountains of merchandise, its
squadrons of black stevedores, wagons and carts. On beyond were the
hulls of the ships sustaining their grove of masts and smokestacks and,
at the extreme end, the yellow breakwater and the sky recently washed
by the rain, with flocks of little clouds as white and placid as silky
sheep.

The man who was returning from the dock and walking along with his eyes
fixed on Ferragut suddenly stopped and, turning upon his tracks,
returned again to the quay.... This movement awakened the captain's
curiosity, sharpening his senses. Suddenly he had a presentiment that
this pedestrian was his Englishman, though dressed differently and with
less elegance. He could only see his rapidly disappearing back, but his
instinct in this moment was superior to his eyes.... He did not need to
look further.... It was the Englishman.

And without knowing why, he hastened his steps in order to catch up
with him. Then he broke into a run, finding that he was alone in the
street, and that the other one had disappeared around the corner.

When Ferragut reached the harbor he could see him hastening away with
an elastic step which amounte