The repairs were not yet entirely completed.
"We are going to Brest," said Ferragut laconically, "It's the last trip." And the steamer put to sea without cargo as though going to fulfill a special mission.
"The last trip!" Toni admired his ship as though seeing it under a new light, discovering beauties hitherto unsuspected, lamenting like a lover the days that were running by so swiftly and the sad moment of separation that was approaching.
Never had the mate been so active in his vigilance.

His seaman's superstition filled him with a certain terror.

Just because it was the last voyage something horrible might occur to them.

He paced the bridge for entire days, examining the sea, fearing the apparition of a periscope, varying the course in agreement with the captain, who was seeking less-frequented waters where the submarines could not expect to find any prey.
He breathed more freely upon entering one of the three semi-circular sea-ledges which enclose the roadstead of Brest.

When they were anchored in this bit of sea, foggy and insecure, surrounded with black mountains, Toni awaited with anxiety the result of the captain's excursions ashore.
During the entire course of the trip Ferragut had not been inclined to be confidential.