CHAPTER XLVIII

Even the steersman slumbered, while his practised muscles kept the rhythm of the waves. He was set and taut in his pose, his eyes keenly fastened on the sea just ahead, but there was a film over his eyes. His skull nodded with the nodding of the boat. All the waves were alike—about so high, about so steep. The irregularities merged into a blur of hypnotic agitation. The heads rocked, the crowded bodies swayed, but the drowsy souls paid no heed. After a while, if any one had been watching, he would have seen an odd …