He had only met him in Naples a few days before, but they were united by the close brotherhood of young compatriots who had run across each other far from their country.
They had both been born in Barcelona.

The poor lad, almost a child, had wanted to return by land and he had carried him off with him at the last hour, urging upon him the advantages of a trip by sea.

Whoever would have imagined that the German submarines were in the Mediterranean! The traveling man persisted in his remorse.

He could not forget that half-grown lad who, in order to make the voyage in his company, had gone to meet his death.
"I met him in Naples, hunting everywhere for his father." "Ah!..." Ulysses uttered this exclamation with his neck violently outstretched, as though he were trying to loosen his skull from the rest of his body.
His eyes were protruding from their sockets.
"The father," continued the youth, "commands a ship....

He is Captain Ulysses Ferragut." An outcry....