III.


Morning of the third day. Same mild, warm wind. Bright blue
sky, with some very thin clouds in the horizon,--like puffs of
steam. The glow of the, sea-light through the open ports of my
cabin makes them seem filled with thick blue glass.... It is
becoming too warm for New York clothing....

Certainly the sea has become much bluer. It gives one the idea
of liquefied sky: the foam might be formed of cirrus clouds
compressed,--so extravagantly white it looks to-day, like snow in
the sun. Nevertheless, the old gentleman from Guadeloupe still
maintains this is not the true blue of the tropics

... The sky does not deepen its hue to-day: it brightens it--
the blue glows as if it were taking fire throughout. Perhaps the
sea may deepen its hue;--I do not believe it can take more
luminous color without being set aflame.... I ask the ship's
doctor whether it is really true that the West Indian waters are
any bluer than these. He looks a moment at the sea, and replies,
"_Oh_ yes!" There is such a tone of surprise in his "oh" as might
indicate that I had asked a very foolish question; and his look
seems to express doubt whether I am quite in earnest.... I
think, nevertheless, that this water is extravagantly,
nonsensically blue!