From the strait they might turn their course to Salonica once more.
The captain of the _Mare Nostrum_ had never undertaken a journey with so much joy.

He believed that he was going to leave on land forever the recollection of that executed woman whose corpse he was seeing so many nights in his dreams.

From all the past, the only thing that he wished to transplant to his new existence was the image of his son.

Henceforth he was going to live, concentrating all his enthusiasm and ideals on the mission which he had imposed on himself.
He took the boat directly from Marseilles to the Cape of San Antonio far from the coast, keeping to the mid-Mediterranean, without passing the Gulf of Lyons.

One twilight evening the crew saw some bluish mountains in the hazy distance,--the island of Mallorca.