We were at sea now, for a very long voyage--we were to pass through the entire length of the Levant; through the entire length of the Mediterranean proper, also, and then cross the full width of the Atlantic--a voyage of several weeks.

We naturally settled down into a very slow, stay-at-home manner of life, and resolved to be quiet, exemplary people, and roam no more for twenty or thirty days.

No more, at least, than from stem to stern of the ship.

It was a very comfortable prospect, though, for we were tired and needed a long rest.
We were all lazy and satisfied, now, as the meager entries in my note-book (that sure index, to me, of my condition), prove.

What a stupid thing a note-book gets to be at sea, any way.