Perhaps there had been more than mere ingenuity
in his last riddle for the theological skipper. Truly the
subconscious had usurped him. Here he was almost happy, for he
was almost unaware of life. It was all blue vacancy and
suspension. The sea is the great answer and consoler, for it
means either nothing or everything, and so need not tease the
brain.
But the passengers, though unobservant, began to murmur;
especially those who had wagered that the Pomerania would dock on
the eighth day. The world itself, they complained, was created in
seven days, and why should so fine a ship take longer to cross a
comparatively small ocean? Urbanely, over coffee and petite
fours, Gissing argued with them. They were well on their way, he
protested; and then, as a hypothetical case, he asked why one
destination was more worth visiting than another? He even quoted
Shakespeare on this point--something about "ports and happy
havens"--and succeeded in turning the tide of conversation for a
while.
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