that people remained for forty-eight hours in the places where the sickness overtook them. They toiled not, neither did they spin. One steward alone could bear the smell of food; officers went down and out; only the captain, chief engineer, and cook remained whole of the ship's company. Of the passengers, two went to meals—Beauling, because he happened to be going home; and an aged, brandy-drinking judge from Bengal, because he happened to be thinking of something else.
Chiseled Greece rose out of the haze on the weather-beam and smoothed the seas. The dead walked, and the Isis, with a last flirtatious lift of her saucy heels, slipped through the gate of Brindisi Breakwater. The sun struck hot through the superimpending clouds, and the Isis sidled into her pier, looking like a ship carved out of frost.
Beauling went to the hotel, and as he was about to enter, a woman in the street spoke to him, and called him by name.
