the high-school geographies. For days we'd
seen nothing except sapphire-blue sea, big swells rolling under a satin
finish without breaking through, and a baby-blue sky. On the morning of
the tenth the sea was streaked with broad, oily bands, like State roads,
and near and far were whales travelling south at about ten knots an
hour, as if they had a long way to go.

We saw heaps of porpoises and heaps of flying-fish; some birds; unhewn
timber--a nasty lot of it--and big floats of sea-weed. We saw a whale
being pounded to death by a killer; and in the afternoon as perfect an
example of a brand-new coral island as was ever seen. It looked like a
ring of white snow floating on the water, and inside the ring was a
careened two-master--just the ribs and stumps left. There was a
water-spout miles off to port, and there was a kind of electric jump and
thrill to the baked air that made these things seem important, like
omens in ancient times. Besides, the beasts, from Bahut the elephant to
little Assam the mongoose, put in the whole day at practising the noises
of complaint and uneasiness. Then, directly it was dark, we slipped into
a "white sea." That's a rare sight and it has never been very well
explained. The water looks as though it had been mixed with a quantity
of milk, but when you dip it up it's just water.

About midnight we ran out of this and Ivy and I turned in. The sky was
clear as a bell and even the beasts were quiet. I hadn't been asleep
ten minutes and Ivy not at all, when all at once hell broke loose. There
was a bump that nearly drove my head through a bulkhead; though only
half awake I could feel to the cold marrow of my bones that the old
_Boldero_ was down by the head. The beasts knew it and the Chinks. Never
since Babel was there such pandemonium on earth or sea. By a struck
match I saw Ivy running out of the cabin and slipping on her
bath-wrapper as she went. I called to her, but she didn't answer. I
didn't want to think of anything but Ivy, but I had to let her go and
think of the ship.

There wasn't much use in thinking. The old _Boldero_ was settling by the
head and the pumps couldn't hold up the inflood. In fifteen minutes I
knew that it was all up with us--or all down, rather--and I ordered the
boats over and began to run about like a maniac, looking for Ivy and
calling to her. And why do you suppose I couldn't find her? She was
hiding--hiding from me!

She'd heard of captains of sinking ships