rk
at the big ropes, but they didn't shout as before. The weather had
changed, too, for the twilight was unlike what the day had promised. The
sky was soft gray, with faint streaks of yellow on the horizon. The air
was still and pleasant, much warmer than it had been all the day; and
the water was as motionless and clear as a deep, cool well, and
everything was mirrored in it clearly.

This entire change in the scene, the peace that encircled everything
around us, seemed to give all the same feeling that I know I had. I
fancied that nature created it especially for us, so that we would be
allowed, in this pause, to think of our situation. All seemed to do so;
all spoke in low voices, and seemed to be looking for something as they
gazed quietly into the smooth depths below, or the twilight skies above.
Were they seeking an assurance? Perhaps; for there was something strange
in the absence of a crowd of friends on the shore, to cheer and salute,
and fill the air with white clouds and last farewells.

I found the assurance. The very stillness was a voice--nature's voice;
and it spoke to the ocean and said,

"I entrust to you this vessel. Take care of it, for it bears my children
with it, from one strange shore to another more distant, where loving
friends are waiting to embrace them after long partings. Be gentle with
your charge."

And the ocean, though seeming so still, replied, "I will obey my
mistress."

I heard it all, and a feeling of safety and protection came to me. And
when at last the wheels overhead began to turn and clatter, and the
ripples on the water told us that the "Polynesia" had started on her
journey, which was not noticeable from any other sign, I felt only a
sense of happiness. I mistrusted nothing.

But the old woman who remembered the matzo did, more than anybody else.
She made great preparations for being seasick, and poisoned the air with
garlic and onions.

When the lantern fixed in the ceiling had been lighted, the captain and
the steward paid us a visit. They took up our tickets and noticed all
the passengers, then left. Then a sailor brought supper--bread and
coffee. Only a few ate it. Then all went to bed, though it was very
early.

Nobody expected seasickness as soon as it seized us. All slept quietly
the whole night, not knowing any difference between being on land or at
sea. About five o'clock I woke up, and then I felt and heard the sea. A
very disagreeable smell came from it,