The Argosy — page 74: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

\ 64 On Board the *‘ Batavia.” deceitfully down into hers. We heard him mumnur: “ Angelina, I could not live without you. I could never bid you farewell.” And yet, before we reached Malta, it was evident that this Edwin and Angelina had had a violent quarrel, and parted for ever. Of such stuff are lovers made of—on board ship. Our moments in Gibraltar were drawing to a close. We went on to the Alameda, that walk where all the rank and fashion of the settlement most do congregate. To-night it was deserted—at the present moment. At half-past nine the band was to play, and then, probably, in the cool of the evening, the only endurable time here, its inhabitants would come out like the owls and pace up and down under the dark sky, in sound of the restless sea. But then the owls are birds of wisdom, and may be trusted witb latch-keys. It was very dark to-night. For the moment we had it to ourselves. Lights gleamed here and there upon the waters. Our own good ship looked as if prepared for an illumination ; her electric lights standing out with great effect. All about us were the hills and undulations of fair Andalusia, but we could not trace their faintest outlines. Out there, across the water, was Tangiers, where I had once saved two friends from an agonising death through excesses in lemon tea. They were grateful enough em, but like human nature they deny it now, and declare that it was nothing but the abominable atmosphere of the place. It all came back to me to-night very vividly, as I sat there looking over the dark waters. I could have vowed that I traced before me the outlines of the fleet : and that six hours, not six years, had struck upon the gong of time since I was last there. But the fleet was not before me. It was only ghosts that I saw; the same sort of ghosts that had just now haunted the rooms of the Royal, when the waiter had suggested they had all gone out for a walk. They were ghosts of the imagination—like many other of the ghosts of the world. Though I would not for a moment say there are not and never have been any ghosts at all. Dr. Johnson was a wiser man than J, and he declared in favour of ghosts. I would not presume to contradict Dr. Johnson. If he were here I know that I should get the worst of it, and as he is not here, I will not take a mean advantage. So I beg to vote for Dr. Johnson—and the ghosts. Nine o'clock had struck some time, and Mauleverer suggested that unless we wished to prolong our stay at Gibraltar ad infinitum, it was time to make for the Batavia. I believe that I should have dreamed on until midnight had 1 been alone—and awakened to destitution. Fortunately, as I have already said, Mauleverer was not poetical. He never indulges in dreams and visions. He has little imagination. He is one of those happy men who live in the present, and never trouble themselves about the past and the future. He has a strong nervous system well under control. Southern nights and starry firmaments, and a full COMIC OOOKS.CO