His sobriety was that of the ancient sailor,—­the sobriety of Father Ulysses who used to mix wine with water in all his libations.  The divinities of the old sea did not love alcoholic drinks.  The white Amphitrite and the Nereids only accepted on their altars the fruits of the earth, sacrifices of doves, libations of milk.  Perhaps because of this the seafaring men of the Mediterranean, following an hereditary tendency, looked upon intoxication as the vilest of degradations.  Even those who were not temperate avoided getting frankly drunk like the sailors of other seas, dissimulating the strength of their alcoholic beverage with coffee and sugar.

Caragol was the understudy charged with drinking all which the captain refused, together with certain others which he dedicated to himself in the mystery of the galley.  On warm days he manufactured refresquets, and these refreshments were enormous glasses, half of water and half of rum upon a great bed of sugar,—­a mixture that made one pass like a lightning flash, without any gradations, from vulgar serenity to most angelic intoxication.

The captain would scold him upon seeing his inflamed and reddened eyes.  He was going to make himself blind....  But the guilty one was not moved by this threat.  He had to celebrate the prosperity of the vessel in his own way.  And of this prosperity the most interesting thing for him was his ability to use oil and brandy lavishly without any fear of recriminations when the accounts were settled. Cristo del Grao!... would that the war would last forever!...

The Mare Nostrum’s third voyage from South America to Europe came suddenly to an end in Naples, where they were unloading wheat and hides.  A collision at the entrance of the port, with an English hospital ship that was going to the Dardanelles, injured her stern, carrying away a part of the screw.

Toni roared with impatience upon learning that they would have to remain nearly a month in enforced idleness.  Italy had not yet intervened in the war, but her defensive precautions were monopolizing all naval industries.  It was not possible to make the repairs sooner, although Ferragut well knew what this loss of time would represent in his business.  Valuable freight was waiting for him in Marseilles and Barcelona, but, wishing to tranquillize himself and to pacify his mate, he would say repeatedly: 

“England will indemnify us....  The English are just.”

And in order to soothe his impatience he went ashore.

Compared with other celebrated Italian cities, Naples did not appear to him of much importance.  Its true beauty was its immense gulf between hills of orange trees and pines, with a second frame of mountains one of which outlined upon the azure heavens its eternal crest of volcanic vapors.