My matter-of-fact, conservatively ordered life had been given a crazy
twist at the St. Ives. As an aftermath of that episode I was
probably scenting mysteries where there were none. Nevertheless, I
wondered--though I called myself a fool for it--if any more queer
things would happen before this ship on which we five bold voyagers were
confined should reach the other side.
They did.
CHAPTER IV
"EXTRA"
Toward nine o'clock to my relief it became obvious that the _Re
d'Italia_ was really going to sail at last. The first and second
whistles, sounding raucously, sent the company officials and the family
of the young officer of reserves ashore. The plank was lowered; between
the ship and the looming pier a thread of black water appeared and grew;
a flash and an explosion indicated that the possibly doomed liner had
been filmed according to schedule. "_Evviva l'Italia_!" yelled the
returning braves in the steerage--a very decent set of fellows, it
struck me, to leave so cheerfully their vocations of teamster, waiter,
fruit vender, and the like, and go, unforced, to wear the gray-green
coats of Italy, the short feathers of the mountain climbers, the
bersagliere's bunch of plumes, and to stand against their hereditary
foes the Austrians, up in the snowy Alps.
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