Suddenly the captain felt an instinctive warning.  They were following him....  He stopped in the shadows, close to a pile of crates and saw some men advancing in his direction, passing rapidly over the edge of the red spot made by the electric bulbs, so as not to be under the rain of light.

Although it was impossible for him to recognize them, he was positive, nevertheless, that they were the enemy seen at the bar.

His ship was far away, near the end of the dock most deserted at that hour.  “You’ve done an idiotic thing,” he said mentally.

He began to repent of his rashness, but it was now far too late to turn back.  The city was further away than the steamer, and his enemies would fall upon him just as soon as they saw him going back.  How many were there?...  That was the only thing that troubled him.

“Go on!... Go on!” cried his pride.

He had drawn out his revolver and was carrying it in his right hand with the barrel to the front.  In this solitude he could not count upon the conventions of civilized life.  Night was swallowing him up with all the ambushed traps of a virgin forest while before his eyes was sparkling a great city, crowned with electric diamonds, throwing a halo of flame into the blackness of space.

Three times the Carabineers passed near him, but he did not wish to speak to them.  “Forward!  Only women had to ask assistance....”  Besides, perhaps he was under an hallucination:  he really could not swear that they were in pursuit of him.

After a few steps, this doubt vanished.  His senses, sharpened by danger, had the same perception as has the wild boar who scents the pack of hounds trying to cross his tracks.  At his right, was the water.  At his left, men were prowling behind the mountains of freight, wishing to cut him off; behind were coming still others to prevent his retreat.

He might run, advancing toward those who were trying to hem him in.  But ought a man to run with a revolver in his hand?...  Those who were coming behind would join in the pursuit.  A human hunt was going to take place in the night, and he, Ferragut, would be the deer pursued by the low crowds from the bar.  “Ah, no!...”  The captain recalled von Kramer galloping miserably in full daylight along the wharves of Marseilles....  If they must kill him, let it not be in flight.

He continued his advance with a rapid step, seeing through his enemies’ plans.  They did not wish to show themselves in that part of the harbor obstructed by mountains of cases, fearing that he might hide himself there.  They would await him near his ship in a safe, hidden spot by which he would undoubtedly have to pass.

“Forward!” he kept repeating to himself.  “If I have to die, let it be within sight of the Mare Nostrum!” The steamer was near.  He could recognize now its black silhouette fast to the wharf.  At that moment the dog on board began to bark furiously, announcing the captain’s presence and danger at the same time.