were
lying in wait for him, and were many arrayed against one who was living
alone on his ship with a crew of men of a different nationality. Aside
from the few who had always loved him, nobody would lament his death.
He did not belong to any of the nations at war; he was a species of
privateer bound not to begin an attack. He was even less,--an officer
carrying supplies under the protection of a neutral flag. This flag was
not deceiving anybody. His enemies knew the ship, seeking for it with
more determination than if he were with the Allied fleets. Even in his
own country, there were many people in sympathy with the German Empire
who would celebrate joyously the disappearance of the _Mare Nostrum_
and its captain.

Freya's death had depressed his spirits more than he had imagined
possible. He had gloomy presentiments; perhaps his next journey might
be his last.

"You are going to die!" cried an anguished voice in his brain. "You'll
die very soon if you do not retire from the sea."

And to Ferragut the queerest thing about the warning was that this
counselor had the voice of the one who had always egged him on to
foolish adventures,--the one that had hurled him into danger for the
mere pleasure of discounting it, the one that had made him follow Freya
even after knowing her vile profession.

On the other hand the voice of prudence, always cautious and temperate,
was now showing an heroic tranquillity, speaking like a man of peace
who considers his obligations superior to his life.

"Be calm, Ferragut; you have sold your person with your boat, and they
have given you millions for it. You must carry through what you have
promised even though it may send you out of existence.... The _Mare
Nostrum_ cannot sail without a Spanish captain. If you abandon it, you
will have to find another captain. You will run away through fear and
put in your place a man who has to face death in order to maintain his
family. Glorious achievement, that! ... while you would be on land,
rich and safe!... And what are you going to do on land, you coward?"

His egoism hardly knew how to reply to such a question. He recalled
with antipathy his bourgeois existence over there in Barcelona, before
buying the steamer. He was a man of action and could live only when
occupied in risky enterprises.

He would be bored to death on land and at the same time would be
considered belittled, degraded, like one who comes down to an inferior
grade in a c