The mist had lifted like magic,
and we were not far toward Staten Island before we knew a fine,
blowing, clear day, presided over, in the still, upper spaces, by
great, leaning cumulus clouds. They toppled huge over the great-clustered
buildings as we trod outward toward the harbour mouth....
The pilot swung aboard. The voyage was begun.
The coast of America now looked more like a low-lying fringe of
insubstantial cloud than solid land.
My heart sank. I had committed myself definitely to a three-months'
sea-trip ... there was no backing out, it was too far to swim ashore.
"What's wrong, Johann," asked the captain, "are you sea-sick already?"
He had noticed my expression as he walked by.
"No, sir!"
"If you are, it isn't anything to be ashamed of. I've known old
sea-captains who got sea-sick every time they put out of port."
* * * * *
There was a running forward. The shanghaied man hove in sight, on the
rampage again. He came racing aft. "I must speak with the captain."
There was a scuffle. He broke away. Again the two mates were close upon
him. Suddenly he flung himself down and both the mates tripped over him
and went headlong.
The captain couldn't help laughing. Then he began to swear ... "that
fellow's going to give us a lot of trouble," he prophesied.
Several sailors, grinning, had joined in the chase.
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