One night one of the crew was washed overboard and lost; the following day a man fell from the topmast, that no one might think salvation impossible.  And as though the Southern Demon had only been awaiting this tribute, the gale from the west ceased, the bark no longer had the impassable barrier of a hostile sea before its prow, and was able to enter the Pacific, anchoring twelve days later in Valparaiso.

Ulysses appreciated now the agreeable memory that this port always leaves in the memory of sailors.  It was a resting-place after the struggle of doubling the cape; it was the joy of existence, after having felt the blast of death; it was life again in the cafes and in the pleasure houses, eating and drinking until surfeited, with the stomach still suffering from the salty food and the skin still smarting from boils due to the sea-life.

His admiring gaze followed the graceful step of the women veiled in black who reminded him of his uncle, the doctor.  In the nights of the remolienda, [a popular gathering or festival in Chile] his glance was many times distracted from the dark-hued and youthful beauties dancing the Zamacueca [the national dance of Chile.] in the middle of the room, to the matrons swathed in black veils, who were playing the harp and piano, accompanying the dance with languishing songs which interested him greatly.  Perhaps one of these sentimental, bearded ladies might have been his aunt.

While his ship finished loading its cargo in Iquique, he came in contact with the crowd of workers from the saltpeter works,—­“broken-down” [originally a term of contempt is now a complimentary by-name] Chileans, laboring men from all countries, who did not know how to spend their day’s wages in the monotony of these new settlements.  Their intoxication diverted itself with most mistaken magnificence.  Some would let the wine run from an entire cask just to fill a single glass.  Others used the bottles of champagne lined up on the shelves of the cafes as a target for their revolvers, paying cash for all that they broke.

From this trip Ferragut gained a feeling of pride and confidence that made him scornful of every danger.  Afterwards he encountered the tornadoes of the Asiatic seas, those horrible circular tempests that in the northern hemisphere revolve from right to left, and in the south from left to right—­rapid incidents of a few hours or days at the most.  He had doubled Cape Horn in mid-winter after a struggle against the elements that had lasted two months.  He had been able to run all risks; the ocean had exhausted for him all its surprises....  And yet, nevertheless, the worst of his adventures occurred in a calm sea.

He had been at sea seven years and was thinking of returning once more to Spain when, in Hamburg, he accepted the post of first mate of a swift-sailing ship that was setting out for Cameroon and German East Africa.  A Norwegian sailor tried to dissuade him from this trip.  It was an old ship, and they had insured it for four times its value.  The captain was in league with the proprietor, who had been bankrupt many times....  And just because this voyage was so irrational, Ulysses hastened to embark.  For him, prudence was merely a vulgarity, and obstacles and dangers but tempted more irresistibly his reckless daring.