Having obtained a clean "bill of health," the next business was to order stores and water, and for the first time I realized the value of that precious fluid, which, though excessively dear, was dirty and not particularly sweet.
Two days later the "Fortuna" left Gib, and with a light easterly breeze she passed through the Straits under sail and power.
"Why have we the motor running, as the wind is aft?" I asked my father.
"Because we want to get through the Straits before the tidal stream changes."
"But we are in the Mediterranean Sea now, are we not? I thought the Mediterranean was tideless."
"Yes, so it is; but there is a strong tidal current—which is a very different thing from a tide—running under us now at the rate of nearly six knots. In another two hours it will change and be against us. If the Straits were wide enough to admit the progress of the tidal wave there would be a rise and fall in the ports of the Mediterranean, but as they are not, only the tidal current rushes in and out twice every day."
For seven days we kept in sight of the African shore, our rate of progression averaging ninety-five miles per diem, and as luck would have it, we missed the gales so prevalent off the Algerian coast, the weather being balmy by day and cool at night.
On the second night after leaving Gibraltar, I strolled for'ard to where a group of sailors were sitting on the fo'c'sle telling yarns.
"I hope you won't mind my listening," I said apologetically. "I should like a good yarn, so carry on, just as if I were not here."
"Carry on, Joe!" exclaimed one of the men. "You were just a-goin' to spin that yarn about the ghost of the 'M——'s' cat."