3 P.M.
Touching his forehead , he assented , and wished me good-night and a good journey ; part of his hope went unfulfilled , by the way . That ocean voyage of mine was to take rank , in part at least , as a first-class nightmare . The Central powers could scarcely have improved on it by torpedoing us in mid-ocean or by speeding us upon our trip with a cargo of clock-work bombs . The sailing of the _ Re d'Italia _ was scheduled for 3 P.M. promptly , but being well acquainted with the ways of steamers at most times , above all in these piping times of war , it was not until an hour later than I left the St. Ives , where the manager , by the way , did not appear to bid me farewell . The thermometer had been falling , and the day was crisp and snappy , with a light powdering of snow underfoot and a blue tang and sparkle in the air . Dunny accompanied me in the taxicab , but was less talkative than usual . Indeed , he spoke only two or three times between the hotel and the pier .