I returned, with a shock, to the present, to the weeping walls, the
discoloured deal table, the ghastly breakfast litter--all the visible
symbols of the life I had pledged myself to. Disillusionment was
making rapid headway when Davies returned, and said, with energy:

'What do you say to starting for Kiel at once? The fog's going, and
there's a breeze from the sou'-west.'

'Now?' I protested. 'Why, it'll mean sailing all night, won't it?'

'Oh, no,' said Davies. 'Not with luck.'

'Why, it's dark at seven!'

'Yes, but it's only twenty-five miles. I know it's not exactly a fair
wind, but we shall lie closehauled most of the way. The glass is
falling, and we ought to take this chance.'

To argue about winds with Davies was hopeless, and the upshot was
that we started lunchless. A pale sun was flickering out of masses of
racing vapour, and through delicate vistas between them the fair land
of Schleswig now revealed and now withdrew her pretty face, as though
smiling _adieux_ to her faithless courtiers.

The clank of our chain brought up Bartels to the deck of the
Johannes, rubbing his eyes and pulling round his throat a grey shawl,
which gave him a comical likeness to a lodging-house landlady
receiving the milk in morning _déshabillé._