Toni remained impassive.  He was waiting for something more.  The captain in starting on a voyage had always told him the port of destiny and the special nature of the cargo.  Therefore, noting that Ferragut did not want to add anything more, he ventured to ask: 

“Is it to Barcelona that we are going?”

Ulysses hesitated, looking toward the door, as though fearing to be overheard.  Then he leaned over toward Toni.

The voyage was going to be one without any danger, but one which must be shrouded in mystery.

“I am counting on you, because you know all my affairs, because I consider you as one of my family.”

The pilot did not appear to be touched with this sample of confidence.  He still remained impassive, though within him all the uneasiness that had been agitating him in former days was reawakening.

The captain continued talking.  These were war times and it was necessary to take advantage of them.  For those two it would not be any novelty to transport cargoes of military material.  Once he had carried from Europe arms and munitions for a revolution in South America.  Toni had recounted to him his adventures in the Gulf of California, in command of a little schooner which had served as a transport to the insurrectionists of the southern provinces in the revolt against the Mexican government.

But the mate, while nodding his head affirmatively, was at the same time looking at him with questioning eyes.  What were they going to transport on this trip?...

“Toni, it is not a matter of artillery nor of guns.  Neither is it an affair of munitions....  It is a short and well-paid job that will make us go very little out of our way on our return to Barcelona.”

He stopped himself in his confidences, feeling a curious hesitation and finally he added, lowering his voice: 

“The Germans are paying for it!...  We are going to supply their Mediterranean submarines with petrol.”

Contrary to all Ferragut’s expectations, his second did not make any gesture of surprise.  He remained as impassive as if this news were actually incomprehensible to him.  Then he smiled lightly, shrugging his shoulders as though he had heard something absurd....  The Germans, perhaps, had submarines in the Mediterranean?  It was likely, was it, that one of these navigating machines would be able to make the long crossing from the North Sea to the Strait of Gibraltar?...

He knew all about the great atrocities that the submarines were causing in the vicinity of England, but in a greatly reduced zone in the limited radius of action of which they were capable.  The Mediterranean, fortunately for the merchant vessels, was quite beyond the range of their treacherous lying-in-wait.

Ferragut interrupted with his meridional vehemence.  Beside himself with passion, he was already beginning to express himself as though the doctor were speaking through his mouth.