In the early sunlight of the next day, we tossed close off the buoy¹ and saw the city sparkle in its groves² about the foot of the Punch-bowl, and the masts clustering thick in the small harbour. A good breeze, which had risen with the sea, carried us triumphantly³ through the intricacies of the passage; and we had soon brought up not far from the landing-stairs. I remember to have remarked an ugly horned reptile⁴ of a modern warship⁵ in the usual moorings across the port, but my mind was so profoundly plunged⁶ in melancholy⁷ that I paid no heed⁸.

Indeed, I had little time at my disposal. Messieurs Sharpe and Fowler had left the night before in the persuasion⁹ that I was a liar¹⁰ of the first magnitude; the genial¹¹ belief brought them aboard again with the earliest opportunity, proffering¹² help to one who had proved how little he required it, and hospitality to so respectable a character. I had business to mind, I had some need both of assistance and diversion; I liked Fowler — I don’t know why; and in short, I let them do with me as they desired. No creditor¹³ intervening, I spent the first half of the day inquiring into the conditions of the tea and silk market under the

分享到：