“All mail steamers ought to provide a lecturer on things in general and interesting places passed in particular,” said Isobel.
Dr. Christobal bowed.
“I am sure that some of the officers of the Orellana could have told you the history of Cape Virgins, but they, not to mention the other young gentlemen in the passenger list, would certainly find you better sport than puzzling your pretty head about the ship’s landmarks.”
“I also came out on the Orellana, but there was no Miss Baring to be seen,” murmured the Frenchman.
“You had a dull trip, I take it?” said the doctor, quietly.
“I was very ill,” was the response; but, after a stare of surprise, he joined in the resultant laugh quite good-naturedly.
“It is a standing joke that my countrymen are poor sailors,” he protested, “and that is strange, don’t you think, seeing that France has the second largest navy in the world?”
“Console yourself, monsieur,” said Christobal. “Three great sea-captains, Nelson, Cook, and, it is said, Columbus himself, always paid tribute to Neptune. And, if I am not mistaken,” he added, glancing through the port windows, “we shall all have our stamina tested before twenty-four hours have passed.”
Heads were turned and necks craned to see what had induced this unexpected prophecy. Behind the distant coast-line the inner giants of the Andes threw heavenward their rugged outlines, with many a peak and glacier glinting in vivid colors against a sky so clear and blue that they seemed strangely near.
“Yes, this wonderful atmosphere of ours is enchanting,” said the doctor, when assailed by a chorus of doubts. “But it carries its deceptive smiles too far. The very beauty of the Cordillera is a sign of storm. I am sorry to be a croaker; yet we are running into a gale.”