argo as though going to fulfill a
special mission.

"The last trip!" Toni admired his ship as though seeing it under a new
light, discovering beauties hitherto unsuspected, lamenting like a
lover the days that were running by so swiftly and the sad moment of
separation that was approaching.

Never had the mate been so active in his vigilance. His seaman's
superstition filled him with a certain terror. Just because it was the
last voyage something horrible might occur to them. He paced the bridge
for entire days, examining the sea, fearing the apparition of a
periscope, varying the course in agreement with the captain, who was
seeking less-frequented waters where the submarines could not expect to
find any prey.

He breathed more freely upon entering one of the three semi-circular
sea-ledges which enclose the roadstead of Brest. When they were
anchored in this bit of sea, foggy and insecure, surrounded with black
mountains, Toni awaited with anxiety the result of the captain's
excursions ashore.

During the entire course of the trip Ferragut had not been inclined to
be confidential. The mate only knew that this voyage to Brest was the
last. Who was going to be the new owner of the _Mare Nostrum_?...

One rainy evening, upon returning to the boat, Ulysses gave orders that
they should hunt up the mate while he was shaking out his waterproof in
the entry to the stateroom.

The roadstead was dark with its foamy waves, choppy and thick, leaping
like sheep. The men-of-war were sending out smoke from their triple
chimneys ready to confront the bad weather with their steam engines.

The ship, anchored in the commercial port, was dancing restlessly,
tugging at its hawsers, with a mournful croaking. All the nearby boats
were tossing in the same way, just as though they were out on the high
seas.

Toni entered the saloon, and one look at the captain's face made him
suspect that the moment for knowing the truth had arrived. Avoiding his
glance, Ulysses told him curtly, trying to evade by the conciseness of
his language all signs of emotion.

He had sold the ship to the French:--a rapid and magnificent piece of
business.... Whoever would have said when he bought the _Mare Nostrum_
that some day they would give him such an enormous sum for it?... In no
country could they find any vessels for sale. The invalids of the sea,
rusting in the harbors as old iron, were now bringing fabulous prices.
Boats, aground and forgotten on