And recalling their former bad business ventures, they rejoiced for Ferragut, with the same disinterestedness as the first officer.

The engineers were no longer called to the captain's cabin in order to contrive new economies in fuel.

They had to take advantage of the time and opportunity; and the _Mare Nostrum_ was now going at full steam, making fourteen knots an hour, like a passenger vessel, stopping only when its course was blocked at the entrance of the Mediterranean by an English destroyer, sending out an officer to make sure that they were not carrying on board enemy passengers.
Abundance reigned equally between bridge and forecastle where were the sailors' quarters and the galley,--the space respected by every one on the boat as the incontestable realm of Uncle Caragol.
This old man, nicknamed "Caracol" (snail), another old friend of Ferragut's, was the ship's cook, and, although he did not dare to talk as familiarly to the captain as in former times, the tone of his voice made it understood that mentally he was continuing to use the old, affectionate form.

He had known Ulysses when he used to run away from the classrooms to row in the harbor and, on account of the bad state of his eyes, he had finally retired from the navigation of coast vessels, descending to be a simple bargeman.

His gravity and corpulence had something almost priestly in character.