Blue Voyage

Blue Voyage

Blue Voyage

Blue Voyage

Excerpt

'WILL you stop,' said William Demarest, leaning his head out of the taxi window, 'at that corner drug store?' Just like a cuckoo- clock, he thought.

It had suddenly occurred to him that he had forgotten his sea-sick pills--the little pink and green box was indispensable--oh, absolutely! A charm against sea-serpents. As he stood on the marble floor, amid the thousand bottles and vials and jars, in a heavy smell of soap and disinfectant, watching the clerk wrap up and real the box, the sound of the approaching voyage came loudly about him. Waves crashing against black port-holes at midnight. Bugles blowing in sour corridors--red- carpeted corridors which suddenly, unaccountably, became hills to climb. O God, what a prospect! And the ship--what was the ship? A congregation of gigantic mushroom-like ventilators, red-throated, all belching a smell of hot oil and degenerate soup, with sounds of faint submarine clankings. Among them, a few pale stewards, faces like cauliflowers, carrying gladstone bags and hot-water bottles . . . He suddenly felt queasy. This would never do: it was all a matter of nerves. Day by day, and with every wave, the sea gets smoother and smoother. It might, in fact, be a regular yachting cruise-- blue sky, blue sea, sunny decks, and a beautiful . . .

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