Even the rudest and most ungovernable of sailors would admit his exceptional ability.
"Love remained!..." But Ferragut made a wry face when thinking of that.
He had known it and did not wish to meet it again.

The gentle love of a good companion, capable of surrounding the latter part of his existence with congenial comfort, he had just lost forever.

The other, impassioned, fantastic, voluptuous, giving to life the crude interest of conflicts and contrasts, had left him with no desire of recommencing it.
Paternity, stronger and more enduring than love, might have filled the rest of his days had his son not died....

There only remained vengeance, the savage task of returning evil to those who had done him so much evil.

But he was so powerless to struggle against all of them!...