But he was baffling; reticent, but self-assured, authoritative even,
and, in a quiet way, watchful. He smoked a good cigar, mixed a good
drink, seemed used to travel, but produced a coarse-grained effect,
made grammatical errors, and on the whole was a person from whom, once
ashore, I should flee.
At six o'clock on the seventh night out our voyage entered its second
lap; all the electric lights were simultaneously extinguished as we
entered the danger zone. We made a sketchy toilet by means of tapers,
groped like wandering ghosts down a dim corridor, and dined by the faint
rays of candles thrust into bottles and placed at intervals along
the festive board. I went on deck afterward to find the ship plunging
through blackness on forced draft, with port-holes shrouded and with
not even a riding-light. If not in Davy Jones's locker by that time, we
should reach Gibraltar the next evening; afterward we should head for
Naples, a two days' trip.
The following morning found our stormy weather over. The sea through
which we were speeding had a magic color, the dark, rich, Mediterranean
blue.
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