ON THE OCEAN WAVE 85 



have stirred that ever so slightly would have sent me 

 packing at the first canal station. 



The position grew more painful hour by hour, but 

 with the beginning of the ' graveyard ' watch my 

 body grew numb and I sank into a half-comatose 

 state that was not sleeping. 



Daylight brought no relief, though the sunshine, 

 filtering through the canvas, disclosed the objects about 

 me. There came the jabbering of strange tongues as 

 the crew quarrelled over their work about the deck. 

 Now and then a shout from a canal station marked our 

 progress. Passengers mounting to the upper deck 

 brushed against the lifeboat in their promenading. 

 From time to time confidential chats sounded in 

 my ears. 



All save the officers soon retreated to the shade 

 below. In the arid desert through which we were 

 steaming that day must certainly have been calorific. 

 But there, at least, a breeze was stirring. By four 

 bells, the Egyptian sun, pouring down upon the canvas, 

 had turned my hiding-place into an oven. By noon 

 it resembled nothing so cool and refreshing. A raging 

 thirst had long since put hunger to flight. In the early 

 afternoon, as I lay motionless on my grill, there sounded 

 the splash of water close at hand. Two natives had 

 been sent to wash the lifeboat. For an hour they dashed 

 bucketful after bucketful against it, splashing, now and 

 then, even the canvas over my head. 



The gong had just sounded for afternoon tea when 

 the ship began to rock slightly. A faint sound of waves 

 breaking on the bow succeeded. A light breeze moved 

 the canvas ever so little, and the throb of the engines 

 increased. Had we passed out of the canal? My first 



