Fumero gestured for him to join him, and they both wandered down the length of the deck while the crew watched expectantly. After a few minutes, Fumero stopped, took one last drag, and threw his cigarette overboard. Leaning on the rail, he gazed at Barcelona as if he’d never seen the city before. “Can you smell it, Captain?”

Arráez waited a moment before replying. “I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to, Major.”

Fumero tapped his arm affectionately. “Take a deep breath. Slowly. You’ll see how you notice it.”

Arráez exchanged a glance with Bermejo. The members of the crew looked at one another in confusion. Fumero turned around and with a gesture encouraged them to breathe in too.

“No? Nobody?”

The captain tried to force a smile that didn’t reach his lips.

“Well, I can certainly smell it,” said Fumero. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it.”

Arráez nodded vaguely.

“Of course,” Fumero insisted. “Of course you can smell it. Like me, and like everyone here. It’s the smell of a rat. That disgusting rat you’re hiding on board.”

Arráez frowned in bewilderment. “I can assure you—”

Fumero raised a hand to silence him. “When a rat sneaks in, there’s no way of getting rid of it. You give it poison, and it eats it. You set up a rat trap, and it shits on it. A rat is the most difficult thing in the world to get rid of. Because rats are cowards. Because they hide. Because they think they’re cleverer than you.” Fumero took a few seconds to savor his words. “And do you know what is the only way of destroying a rat, Captain? How to really exterminate a rat, once and for all?”

Arráez shook his head. “I don’t know, Major.”

Fumero smiled, baring his teeth. “Of course not. Because you’re a seaman, and there’s no reason why you should know. That’s my job. That’s the reason why the Revolution has brought me into the world. Observe, Captain. Observe and learn.”

Before Arráez could respond, Fumero walked off toward the prow and his men followed him. The captain then realized that he’d been wrong. Fumero was armed. He wielded a shiny revolver in his hand, a collector’s piece. Traversing the deck, he roughly pushed aside any crew members standing in his way and ignored the entrance to the cabins. He knew where he was going. At a signal his men surrounded the hatch that sealed off the hold and waited for the order. Fumero leaned over the metal sheet and gently knocked on it with his knuckles, as if he were knocking on the door of an old friend.

“Surprise!” he chimed.

When the men had practically ripped off the hatch and the bowels of the ship were exposed to daylight, Arráez went back to the bridge to hide. He’d already witnessed enough in two years of war. The last thing he saw was Fumero licking his lips like a cat a second before disappearing, revolver in hand, into the hold of the ship.