Mrs. Crayme’s happiness had been frightening some of her years away, and her smile carried Sam himself back to his pre-marital period as she said: 

“Never mind the rest; I see you don’t want me to go,” and then she became Mrs. Crayme again as she said, pressing her face closely to her husband’s breast, “but I hope you won’t get any freight, anywhere, so you can get home all the sooner.”

Then the captain called on Dr. White, and announced such a collection of symptoms that the doctor grew alarmed, insisted on absolute quiet, and conveyed Crayme in his own carriage to the boat, saw him into his berth, and gave to Fred Macdonald a multitude of directions and cautions, the sober recording of which upon paper was of great service in saving Fred from suffering over the Quixotic aspect which the whole project had begun, in his mind, to take on.  He felt ashamed even to look squarely into Crayme’s eye, and his mind was greatly relieved when the captain turned his face to the wall and exclaimed: 

“Fred, for goodness’ sake get out of here; I feel enough like a baby now, without having a nurse alongside.  I’ll do well enough for a few hours; just look in once in a while.”

During the first day of the trip, Crayme made no trouble for himself or Fred; under the friendly shelter of night, the two men had a two-hour chat, which was alternately humorous, business-like, and retrospective, and then Crayme fell asleep.  The next day was reasonably pleasant out of doors, so the captain wrapped himself in a blanket and sat in an extension-chair on the guards, where with solemn face he received some condolences which went far to keep him in good humor after the sympathizers had departed.  On the second night the captain was restless, and the two men played cards.  On the third day the captain’s physique reached the bottom of its stock of patience, and protested indignantly at the withdrawal of its customary stimulus; and it acted with more consistency, though no less ugliness, than the human mind does when under excitement and destitute of control.  The captain grew terribly despondent, and Fred found ample use for all the good stories he knew.  Some of these amused the captain greatly, but after one of them he sighed.

“Poor old Billy Hockess told me that the only time I ever heard it before, and didn’t we have a glorious time that night!  He’d just put all his money into the Yenesei—­that blew up and took him with it only a year afterward—­and he gave us a new kind of punch he’d got the hang of when he went East for the boat’s carpets.  ’Twas made of two bottles of brandy, one whisky, two rum, one gin, two sherry, and four claret, with guava jelly, and lemon peel that had been soaking in curacoa and honey for a month.  It looks kind of weak when you think about it, but there were only six of us in the party, and it went to the spot by the time we got through.  Golly, but didn’t we make Rome howl that night!”