46 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY CHAP. Ill 



trifling repairs, which, though not essential to the safety 

 of the ship, will nevertheless naturally enhance the 

 comfort of its inmates. This you will understand when 

 I tell you that in consequence of these same defects I 

 have had water an inch or two deep in my cabin, wish- 

 washing about ever since we left Madeira. 



We crossed the line on the 13th of this month, and as 

 one of the uninitiated I went through the usual tomfoolery 

 practised on that occasion. The affair has been too often 

 described for me to say anything about it. I had the 

 good luck to be ducked and shaved early, and of course 

 took particular care to do my best in serving out the un- 

 happy beggars who had to follow. I enjoyed the fun 

 well enough at the time, but unquestionably it is on all 

 grounds a most pernicious custom. It swelled our sick 

 list to double the usual amount, and one poor fellow, I 

 am sorry to say, died of the effects of pleurisy then 

 contracted. 



We have been quite long enough at sea now to enable 

 me to judge how I shall get on in the ship, and to form 

 a very clear idea of how it fits me and how I fit it. In 

 the first place, I am exceedingly well and exceedingly con- 

 tented with my lot. My opinion of the advantages lying 

 open to me increases rather than otherwise as I see my way 

 about me. I am on capital terms with all the superior 

 officers, and I find them ready to give me all facilities. I 

 have a place for my books and microscope in the chart- 

 room, and there I sit and read in the morning much as 

 though I were in my rooms in Agar Street. My im- 

 mediate superior, Johnny Thomson, is a long-headed 

 good fellow, without a morsel of humbug about him a 

 man whom I thoroughly respect, both morally and in- 

 tellectually. I think it will be my fault if we are not 

 fast friends through the commission. One friend on 

 board a ship is as much as anybody has a right to expect. 



It is just the interval between the sea and the land 

 breezes, the sea like glass, and not a breath stirring. I 



