He was an important share-holder of the company by which he was employed.

His companions loved to calculate with proud exaggeration the riches of his mother, piling it up into millions.
He met friends on every ship carrying the Spanish flag, whatever might be its home port or the nationality of its crews.
They all liked him:--the Basque captains, economical in words, rude and sparing in affectionate discourse; the Asturian and Galician captains, self-confident and spendthrift in strange contrast to their sobriety and avaricious character when ashore; the Andalusian captains, reflecting in their witty talk white Cadiz and its luminous wines; the Valencian captains who talk of politics on the bridge, imagining that they are going to become the navy of a future republic; and the captains from Catalunia and Mallorca as thoroughly acquainted with business affairs as are their ship-owners.

Whenever necessity obliged them to defend their rights, they immediately thought of Ulysses.
Nobody could write as he could.
The old mates who had worked their way up from the lower ranks, men of the sea who had begun their career on coasting vessels and could only with great difficulty adjust their practical knowledge to the handling of books, used to speak of Ferragut with pride.
"They say that men of the sea are an uncultivated people....

Here they have _Don Luis_ who is one of us.

They may ask him whatever they wish....