THE RED SEA 



master is bending over you. Sleepily, very sleepily, 

 you stagger to your feet and collapse into the nearest 

 chair. Then to the swish of waters as the sailors 

 sluice the decks all around and under you, you fall 

 into a really deep sleep. 



At six o'clock this is broken by chota-hahzari, 

 another tropical institution, consisting merely of 

 clear tea and crackers. I never could get to care 

 for it, but nowhere in the tropics could I head it off. 

 No matter how tired I was or how dead sleepy, I had 

 to receive that confounded chota-hahzari. Throwing 

 things at the native who brought it did no good at 

 all. He merely dodged. Admonition did no good, 

 nor prohibition in strong terms. I was but one 

 white man of the whole white race; and I had no 

 right to possess idiosyncrasies running counter to 

 Distauri, the Custom. However, as the early hours 

 are the profitable hours in the tropics, it did not 

 drive me to homicide. 



The ship's company now developed. Our two 

 prize members fortunately for us, sat at our table. 

 The first was the Swedish Professor aforementioned. 

 He was large, benign, paternal, broad in mind, 

 thoroughly human and beloved, and yet profoundly 

 erudite. He was our iconoclast in the way of food; 

 for he performed small but illuminating dissections 

 on his plate, and announced triumphantly results 



35 



