The evening had come on, with the sun going down in the midst of a peculiar bank of clouds that would have looked threatening to experienced eyes; but to the travellers it was one scene of glory, the edges of the vapours being of a glowing orange, while the sky and sea were gorgeous with tints that were almost painful in their dazzling sheen. There was not a breath of wind, not a sound upon the smooth sea. The sails hung motionless, and the heat was as oppressive as if those on board were facing some mighty furnace.
“Very, very grand!” said Mr Burne at last, after he had sat with the others for some time silently watching the glorious sight; “but to my mind there’s too much of it. I should like to have it spread over months, a little bit every night, not like this, all at once.”
“Oh, Mr Burne!” cried Lawrence reproachfully.
“I once saw a pantomime many years ago, when I took some of my sister’s children to a box I was foolish enough to pay for. This reminds me of one of the scenes, only there are no sham fairies and stupid people bobbing about and standing on one leg. Just when everything was at the brightest a great dark curtain came down, and it was all over, and it seems to be coming here, only it’s coming up instead of coming down. Heigho—ha—hum! how sleepy I am!”
He lay down as he spoke close under the low bulwark, and as he did so Lawrence glanced forward and saw that the gorgeous sunset had no charms for the sailors, for they were lying among the baskets fast asleep, their faces upon their arms, while, upon looking aft, the man at the helm was crouched up all of a heap sleeping heavily.
“It is very beautiful,” said the professor; “but I daresay some of our English sunsets are nearly as bright, only we do not notice them, being either shut up or too busy to look.”
“Doesn’t this curious stuffy feeling of heat make you feel drowsy, Mr Preston?” said Lawrence, after a few minutes’ silence, “or do I feel it because I am weak with being ill so long?”
“My dear boy,” replied the professor laughing, “at the present moment I feel as if all my bones had been dissolved into so much gristle. It is the heat, my lad, the heat.”
Lawrence lay back upon the deck with his head resting upon a pillow formed out of a doubled-up coat. He had tried going below, but the little cabin was suffocating. It was as if the bulkheads and deck had imbibed the sun’s heat all day and were now slowly giving it out. To sleep there would have been impossible, and he had returned on deck bathed in perspiration to try and get a breath of air.
As he lay there he could see the old lawyer sleeping heavily, the professor with his head resting upon his hand, and his face glorified by the reflection from sea and sky, and their guide Yussuf seated cross-legged smoking placidly at his water-pipe, his dark eyes seeming to glow like hot coals.