he officers affably, regretting not to know their language
sufficiently to begin a friendly conversation with them. The captain
had accustomed him to such familiarity.

There were two mates that the mobilization had converted into auxiliary
lieutenants of the navy. The first day they presented themselves on
board arrayed in their uniform; then they returned in civilian clothes
in order to habituate themselves to being simply merchant officers on a
neutral steamer. The two knew by hearsay, of Ferragut's former voyages
and his services to the Allies, and they understood each other
sympathetically without the slightest national prejudice. Caragol
achieved equal success with the forty-five men who had taken possession
of the machinery and the messrooms in the forecastle. They were dressed
like seamen of the fleet, with a broad blue collar and a cap topped by
a red pompom. Some displayed on the breast military medals and the
recent _Croix de Guerre_. From their canvas bags which served them for
valises, they unpacked their regulation suits, worn when they were
working on the freight steamers, on the schooners plying to
Newfoundland, or on the simple coasting smacks.

The galley at certain hours was full of men listening to the old cook.
Some knew the Spanish tongue on account of having sailed in brigs from
Saint-Malo and Saint-Nazaire, going to the ports of the Argentine,
Chili and Peru. Those who could not understand the old fellow's words,
could guess at them from his gesticulations. They were all laughing,
finding him bizarre and interesting. And this general gayety induced
Caragol to bring forth liquid treasures that had been piling up in
former voyages under Ferragut's careless and generous administration.

The strong alcoholic wine of the coast of the Levant began falling into
the glasses like ink crowned with a circle of rubies. The old man
poured it forth with a prodigal hand. "Drink away, boys; in your land
you don't have anything like this...." At other times he would concoct
his famous "refrescoes," smiling with the satisfaction of an artist at
seeing the sensuous grin that began flashing across their countenances.

"When did you ever drink anything like that? What would ever become of
you all without your Uncle Caragol?..."

These Bretons, accustomed to the discipline and sobriety of other
vessels, admired greatly the extraordinary privileges of a cook who
could display as much generosity as the captain himse