Summary

Portrait of Willa Cather Willa Cather One of Ours — The Voyage of the "Anchises" (1922)

Fanning went to bed with his clothes on, so sick he couldn’t take off his boots. Claude lay in the crowded stern, too cold, too faint to move. The sun poured over them like flame, without any comfort in it. The strong, curling, foam-crested waves threw off the light like millions of mirrors, and their colour was almost more than the eye could bear. The water seemed denser than before, heavy like melted glass, and the foam on the edges of each blue ridge looked sharp as crystals. If a man should fall into them, he would be cut to pieces.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Willa Cather Willa Cather One of Ours — The Voyage of the "Anchises" (1922)

Claude waited impatiently in his stateroom for the doctor’s return. He didn’t see why the Chief Steward shouldn’t be exposed and dealt with like any other grafter. He had hated the man ever since he heard him berating the old bath steward one morning. Hawkins had made no attempt to defend himself, but stood like a dog that has been terribly beaten, trembling all over, saying “Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” while his chief gave him a cold cursing in a low, snarling voice. Claude had never heard a man or even an animal addressed with such contempt.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Willa Cather Willa Cather One of Ours — The Voyage of the "Anchises" (1922)

Across the photograph was written in a large splashy hand, À mon aigle! Had Victor been delicate enough to leave him in any doubt, Claude would have preferred to believe that his relations with this lady were wholly of a filial nature.
“Women like her simply don’t exist in your part of the world,” the aviator murmured, as he snapped the photograph case. “She’s a linguist and musician and all that. With her, every-day living is a fine art. Life, as she says, is what one makes it. In itself, it’s nothing.
Source: Wikisource

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