He was skipper of a small craft; Ferragut had not been mistaken.  He was speaking slowly, as though taken up with his final revelation to which all that he was saying was merely an introduction.

“The times are not so bad....  Money is to be gained in the sea; more than ever.  I am from Valencia....  We have brought three boats from there with wine and rice.  A good trip, but it was necessary to navigate close to the coast, following the curve of the gulf, without venturing to pass from cape to cape for fear of the submarine....  I have met a submarine.”

Ulysses suspected that these last words contained the real motive which had made the man, overcoming his timidity, venture to address him.

“It was not on this trip nor on the one before,” continued the man of the sea.  “I met it two days before last Christmas.  In the winter I devote myself to fishing.  I am the owner of a pair of fishing smacks....  We were near the island Columbretas when suddenly we saw a submarine appear near us.  The Germans did not do us any harm; the only vexatious thing was that we had to give them a part of our fish for what they wished to give us.  Then they ordered me to come aboard the deck of a submarine in order to meet the commander.  He was a young fellow who could talk Castilian as I have heard it spoken over there in the Americas when I was a youngster sailing on a brigantine.”

The man stopped, rather reserved, as though doubtful whether to continue his story.

“And what did the German say?” asked Ferragut, in order to encourage him to continue.

“Upon learning that I was a Valencian, he asked me if I was acquainted with you.  He asked me about your steamer, wanting to know if it generally sailed along the Spanish coast.  I replied that I knew you by name, no more, and then he ...”

The captain encouraged him with a smile on seeing that he was beginning to hesitate again.

“He spoke badly about me.  Isn’t that so?...”

“Yes, sir; very badly.  He used ugly words.  He said that he had an account to adjust with you and that he wished to be the first one to meet you.  According to what he gave me to understand, the other submarines are hunting for you, too....  It is an order without doubt.”

Ferragut and his mate exchanged a long look.  Meanwhile the captain continued his explanations.

The two friends who were waiting a few steps off had seen the captain in Valencia and Barcelona many times.  One of them had recognized him immediately; but the other was doubtful whether it might be he, and, as a matter of conscience, the old skipper had come back to give him this warning.

“We countrymen must help one another....  These are bad times!”

Seeing him standing, his two comrades now came up to Ferragut.  “What would you like to drink?” He invited them to seat themselves at the table, but they were in a hurry.  They were on their way to see the consignees of their boats.