But--there was a sober, wistful look on his face sometimes which was not habitual to it, and as the days slipped on, he might often be seen, leaning over the side of the vessel with an anxious pucker on his forehead.
The parting with Valmai had, of course, been a trying ordeal.

With the fervour of a first and passionate love, he recalled every word she had spoken, every passing shade of thought reflected on her face, and while these reveries occupied his mind, there was a tender look in the deep black eyes and a smile on his lips.

But these pleasant memories were apparently often followed by more perplexing thoughts.

One afternoon he had been standing for some time lost in a dream, while he looked with eyes that saw nothing over the heaving waters to the distant horizon, when the captain's voice at his elbow recalled him to his surroundings.
"You are looking at the very point of the wind, the very eye of the storm." "The storm!" said Cardo, starting; "are we going to have one ?" The captain looked critically in the direction towards which they were sailing.
"Dirty weather coming, I think." "Yes, I see," said Cardo; "I had not noticed it before, though.

How inky black the sky is over there! And the sea as black, and that white streak on the line of the horizon!" "We shall have a bit of a toss," said the captain.