"None o' that, now! I don't keep a log-book on little kindnesses—just pass 'em along down the line, say I. And don't you give up the ship, my lady! That's good sailor-like advice! Good-night to you, and good luck!"
The proposed plan was carried out, and the double enclosure quietly mailed at the Arabic town upon Lake Timseh, which looked so fresh and green to the wearied eyes of our friends, after the dismal marshes and clayey banks of the canal. But all beauty has its blemishes, and the other name for this lake suggests the blemish on Ismailia's shores. It is "Crocodile Pool," and our young people spent their time mainly in watching a couple of these monster saurians as they stolidly followed the steamer, through the whole day, eagerly snapping up the refuse of the caboose in their great ugly-looking jaws.
Without event, or incident, they steamed through Bab-el-Mandib, by the lighthouse on Perim, and eastward across the Gulf of Aden. As for the town of that name, on its northern shore, opinions were divided. Faith shuddered at its desolation, Hope thought it bold and striking, while Mr. Lawrence said that, "If Dante had seen it he would have been saved a deal of trouble, for he could simply have described its rocky wilds for his Inferno!" All blessed the fresher atmosphere and brisker breezes of the Indian Ocean, which, if warm, are bearable, and awoke from the lethargy of a sultriness which was like that of an overheated, airless room, to life and interest, once more.
It was nearing night, after a day of intense calm, with the mercury close upon the century mark, and the passengers, eager for air, crowded the upper decks. The captain stood long, with glass in hand, scanning the horizon, and made his dinner a short affair.
"Do you know," said Faith, glancing up at the twilight sky, "there's a strange feeling in the atmosphere, to-night? I can't tell what it is, but, though it is so sultry that I can scarcely breathe, at times a cold shiver runs down my spine, and I believe it is dread, or fear."
"Goodness!" said Hope, turning to look at her, "you're not going to have a fever, are you?"
"I hope not," said Chester Carnegie, with a laugh, "for I've felt the same."
"Sympathetic suggestion possibly," mused Mr. Lawrence, with an absent air, as he leaned over the guard-rail.
"Well, I feel oppressed, too," observed Bess, looking moodily seawards.
"I wouldn't wonder if something is brooding over us. A big storm, or—"
"More sharks," suggested Dwight.