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told me enough concerning their resting place to make me eager for every scrap of news.  He is a marvellous old scamp who calls me "of his family" and thanks God for the discovery of our relationship.  When he kisses my hand, crosses his breast and licks the ends of his fingers, I try to think of Allah and look serious.  
But the farce, the sickening coffee and the surrounding filth will give me bad dreams.  The excitement, after so many quiet days on board, thus far almost prohibits sleep. I must confess however, to enjoying the quest greatly. 

Poker and all other games are as nothing. It's real living, real