TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston

a soft rain-cloud on the sea—a ragged receding line
of hills extending to dim capes and shoals which
merged themselves in the hazy romance of sunset.
This was the last I saw of Italy, On the other side
of the ship it was already night, with a full moon
dancing on the waves.

That was written by me (not Conrad) on Monday
evening. But I really must try not to be so bloody
serious.

February^?. Weather fine. Brain refuses to work.
Still feeling rather seedy.

February 28. Arrived Alexandria after exactly three
days5 voyage.

A clear, gentle-coloured afternoon; blue sea;
creamy, brick-red, terra-cotta, and grey city; wharves
and docks with drifting smoke and thickets of masts
and funnels. Sunshine, not glaring. Everything breezy,
cheerful, and busy.

British officers watch it all for a while, noncha-
lantly—then go below for tea. I also; no more excited

than the rest of them----- .

Shall I find anything tremendous and heroic out
here I wonder? Troops in a warm-climate sideshow.
Urbane, compared with France. Rather the same
sort of thing as this dock with its glassy dark water
and mild night air; stars, gold moon, dark ships,
quiet lights, and sound of soldiers singing-safe in
port once more. . ,

March 2. Left Alexandria 10.30 last night. Arnved
Base Camp, Kantara, 10 this morning. Bought a
watch in Alexandria. It is hexagonali «d was very
ocpcnsivc. If anything like the face of the dago who
2dk to me, it will let me down badly as regards

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