Nevertheless, my fall was noticed only a minute later, after the ship had already sailed a kilometer and a half on—and when it was finally turned around and sent back in my direction, the agitated captain gave it too much speed and the immense vessel’s momentum carried it past the place where I was choking on salt water. One more time they turned and set course toward me—but this time too the ship sped past me like a freight train and stopped much too far away. This maneuver was repeated perhaps ten times, with uncommon persistence. In the meantime a private steam yacht sailed up and took me on board; on seeing this, my ship, the Orient, sailed away. The owner and captain of the yacht had me bound and thrown into a compartment below deck; this was because when he was changing his shoes in my presence I foolishly betrayed my surprise at the sight of his white foot. Though his face was white, I would have wagered good money that his foot would be black as pitch—and yet it was absolutely white!
