Excerpt from The Classic Mediterranean
One winter morning, after the roar of New York had sunk to silence and the city"s gigantic uplift of structures had dwindled to a ragged line in the hush behind us, and our ship had begun to dip her bows with an easy swing as if glad to find herself once more in Oceans freedom, I strolled below in search of any mail that might have come aboard. In a long narrow passage I saw a man, robust and bearded, coming along with a chatting group about him and bearing an armful of letters and papers. As the party passed me he turned and said with quiet courtesy, "Good morning, sir." There were several hundred persons aboard bound for a cruise through the Mediterranean together, but scarcely a face was known to me. I found myself wondering who this gentleman might be.
I slept most of the time during the next day or two; but at length I got my sea-legs and went down to an evening entertainment. In the center of the crowded dining-saloon, conducting the program, was the man who greeted me in the passage with his arms full of mail. I chanced to drop into a seat beside a little lady who proved to be a genial conversationalist.
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