The
eastern tongue of Cuba rose out of the horizon, then dropped
astern, and the gentle trades began to fan the travellers. Now
that they were in the Caribbean, schools of flying fish whisked
out from under the ship's prow, and away, like tiny silver-
sheathed arrows. New constellations rose into the evening sky. It
became impossible to rest indoors, with the trade-winds calling,
and the passengers spent long, lazy hours basking in the breath of
the tropics and grudging the pleasure of which sleep deprived
them.
It was the last night of the voyage, and the thrill of approaching
land was felt by all. As usual, the monotony of the first day or
two had given way to an idle contentment and a vague regret at
leaving the ship and severing the ties so newly made. Home,
instead of looming close and overshadowing, had become a memory
rather indistinct and blurred, clouded by the proximity of the new
and unknown.
Kirk Anthony acknowledged to a reluctant enjoyment of the change
and found himself less eager to go back. As he paced the deck
after dinner he felt a lurking desire to defer his return until he
had absorbed something more of this warmth and languor; he even
reflected that he might welcome a stay of some length in the
tropics if it were not for the fact that he had so much to do.
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