ternal surf, the Breton sailors were marveling at this easy
navigation, almost touching the coast whose inhabitants looked like a
swarm of bees. Had the boat been directed by another captain, so close
a journey would have resulted most disastrously: but Ferragut was
laughing, throwing out gloomy hints to the officers who were on the
bridge, merely to accentuate his professional confidence. He pointed
out the rocks hidden in the deeps. Here an Italian liner that was going
to Buenos Ayres had been lost.... A little further on, a swift
four-masted sailboat had run aground, losing its cargo.... He could
tell by the fraction of an inch the amount of water permissible between
the treacherous rocks and the keel of his boat.

He usually sought the roughest waters by preference, but they were in
the danger-zone of the Mediterranean where the German submarines were
lying in wait for the French and English convoys navigating in the
shelter of the Spanish coast. The obstacles of the submerged coast were
for him now the best defense against invisible attacks.

Behind him, the Ferrarian promontory was growing more and more shadowy,
becoming a mere blur on the horizon. By nightfall the _Mare Nostrum_
was in front of Cape Palos and he had to sail in the outer waters in
order to double it, leaving Cartagena in the distance. From there, he
turned his course to the southwest, to the cape where the Mediterranean
was beginning to grow narrow, forming the funnel of the strait. Soon
they would pass before Almeria and Malaga, reaching Gibraltar the
following day.

"Here is where the enemy is oftentimes waiting," said Ferragut to one
of the officers. "If we have no bad luck before night, we shall have
safely concluded our voyage."

The boat had withdrawn from the shore route, and it was no longer
possible to distinguish the lower coast. Only from the prow could be
seen the jutting hump of the cape, rising up like an island.

Caragol appeared with a tray on which were smoking two cups of coffee.
He would not yield to any cabinboy the honor of serving the captain
when on the bridge.

"Well, what do you think of the trip?" asked Ferragut gayly, before
drinking. "Shall we arrive in good condition?..."

The cook made as scornful a gesture as though the Germans could see
him.

"Nothing will befall us; I am sure of that.... We have One who is
watching over us, and ..."

He was suddenly interrupted in his affirmations. The tray leaped from