a nightmare, another ashy and nebulous wall would
come advancing over the waters enveloping them anew in its night. The
most valorous and calm men would swear upon seeing the endless bar of
mist closing off the horizon.

Such voyages were not at all to Ferragut's taste. Marching in line like
a soldier, and having to conform to the speed of these miserable little
boats irritated him greatly, and it made him still more wrathful to
find himself obliged to obey the Commodore of a convoy who frequently
was nobody but an old sailor of masterful character.

Because of all this he announced to the maritime authorities, on one of
his arrivals at Marseilles, his firm intention of not sailing any more
in this fashion. He had had enough with four such expeditions which
were all well enough for timid captains incapable of leaving a port
unless they always had in sight an escort of torpedo-boats, and whose
crews at the slightest occurrence would try to lower the lifeboats and
take refuge on the coast. He believed that he would be more secure
going alone, trusting to his skill, with no other aid than his profound
knowledge of the routes of the Mediterranean.

His petition was granted. He was the owner of a vessel and they were
afraid of losing his cooeperation when means of transportation were
growing so very scarce. Besides, the _Mare Nostrum_, on account of its
high speed, deserved individual employment in extraordinary and rapid
service.

He remained in Marseilles some weeks waiting for a cargo of howitzers,
and meandered as usual around the Mediterranean capital. He passed the
evenings on the terrace of a cafe of the _Cannebiere_. The recollection
of von Kramer always loomed up in his mind at such times. "I wonder if
they have shot him!..." He wished to know, but his investigations did
not meet with much success. War Councils avoid publicity regarding
their acts of justice. A Marseilles merchant, a friend of Ferragut,
seemed to recall that some months before a German spy, surprised in the
harbor, had been executed. Three lines, no more, in the newspapers,
gave an account of his death. They said that he was an officer.... And
his friend went on talking about the war news while Ulysses was
thinking that the executed man could not have been any one else but von
Kramer.

On that same afternoon he had an encounter. While passing through the
street of _Saint-Ferreol_, looking at the show windows, the cries of
several conductors of