Identifier: argosythe47wood (find matches)
Title: The Argosy
Year: 1865 (1860s)
Authors: Wood, Henry, Mrs., 1814-1887 Wood, Charles W. (Charles William), b. 1850?
Subjects:
Publisher: London (etc.) R. Bentley (etc.)
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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f the world, seemed to rise,phantom-like, from the hills. We passed successively the shores ofMorocco, Algeria and Tunis. The ancient town of Bizerta, once Nbelonging to the Arabs, but now, I believe, a French penal settlement,stood out conspicuously under the shelter of its rocky slopes. It,too, might have belonged to the days of Noah. Banishment heremust indeed be a death in life. There cannot be a great variety of occupation at sea, howeveringenious the human brain may be at inventing new pleasures. Sowas it on board the Batavia. The days passed under the awningsin a pleasant, dreamy monotony. One of the great amusements was in throwing rings into abucket, and if it was not particularly intellectual, it seemed to servethe occasion, for it went on day after day, as regularly as luncheon or*dinner. Cricket also went on at the farther end, apparently withgreat success, considering the limited area of the field. In thesaloon the piano was generally tinkling under more or less skilful I
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VOL. XLVII. OHaras Tower, Gibraltar. K 138 A Bay at Malta. hands—the lesser degree predominating; whilst in a corridor im-mediately below us, another piano was employed all the morning byone of the two young ladies given to flirting, who spent hours instruggling through Dorothy and the Mikado. Her voice was quiteimpossibly out of time and tune. Even our poor cabin-steward grewpale and thin under the daily torture. All day long, sir, and everyday, he said to me one morning, with a sigh and a voice that wouldhave drawn tears from a stone. Her devoted cavalier of courseturned the pages for her; but even his devotion cooled at last, whenthe fair prima donna suddenly found that her voice had been over-strained and needed repose. But by far the pleasantest thing of all was to lie on deck in a longchair, with a favourite book, and pass the hours in that dreamy, lotus-eating existence, which, at certain times and under certain conditions,is such intense pleasure. It was sufficient only to w

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