d they became suspiciously
frequent. Then his solemn face would grow still more solemn, his voice
of office would take on a pleasing melancholy, and he would shake his
grey head with dolorous realizations. Nevertheless, his stores being just
below my cabin, I grew accustomed to his morning rejuvenate roarings
from the threshold at the avarice of the modern sailor. It seemed that at
such times he was momentarily free of his illness.

He, nevertheless, at present, added his good word to the general approval
of the cook. The bread was universally admired, the pea-soup also. This
popularity did not cause any alteration in the melancholy orientalism
of its deserver. He looked forth from his galley with the same wooden
countenance. He was the thinnest man I think I ever saw.

His macaroni, however, appeared to fall under a general taboo. It was
"eschewed." Bicker, the most assiduous tale-teller, seized it as the
chance for describing an old shipmate's misfortune. It was in Italy: "He
was keen on seeing all the sights, so we asked him if he'd seen the
macaroni plantation. He said he'd like to. We told him to take the
tram out of the town and walk on another mile or so, when he'd see the
trees with macaroni growing on them like lace--natural lace. And he
went. But the best of it was that he'd sent a card home the day before
to say, 'To-morrow I am going to see the macaroni plantation.'" This,
which if true was stranger than fiction, elicited recollections of
fool's-errands in the shipyards ("Run and get a capful of nailholes,"
"Ask the storekeeper for a brass hook and a long stay"), which kept
us at table until the steward groaned aloud.

I led a lazy life. There was not much reason for being active. My
afternoon walk might reach as far as the fo'c'sle, in which lay a
kindly miscellany of wire, hemp and manila ropes in coils, and an aroma of
paint and tar was never absent. The heat, however, seemed intenser in
this house than in the open. Clouds and a little rain soon vanished,
and the sea was one long flame towards the sun. White uniforms were in
vogue. For me, the half-closed eye, with a flying-fish or two sometimes
glittering to awake its notice, in any corner out of the sun, was an
occupation. The unfortunate boatswain and his men were chipping paint,
clanging and banging in the heat; or I would see him perching on the
bulwarks directing some aerial operation, and a sailor seated in the
"bosun's chair" being hauled up the