Several days later the Zanzibar steamed through the Strait of Gibraltar and passed into the Mediterranean, going so near the famous huge rock that it was plainly visible in the thin morning air.
“Isn’t that a sight for your eyes, though!” remarked Bob, gazing ahead intently.
“If it were night they would probably play searchlights on our boat,” said Joe.
“What? Searchlights? What are you talking about?”
“Dad told me that there are several forts at the rock,” Joe explained, “and the authorities there have the searchlights to light up the strait. In case of war, I suppose they would come in handy.”
As time passed, the ship steamed on through the Mediterranean, past shores that were famous in ancient history. Although the Zanzibar had not yet entered the tropics, the heat was becoming unbearable, the chums and their fathers seeking the cool retreat of the swimming pool.
Then one clear morning they were able to make out the form of a lighthouse, and a little later they pulled into Port Said, at the Mediterranean end of the Suez Canal.
“Look out for the heat now,” laughed Mr. Lewis, when they were again on their way.
“Heat’s no word for it,” groaned Bob some time later, as he loosened his necktie. “It’s torture.”