OUTWARD BOUND

La Mariniere is outward bound. Yet in her salon no jesting cynic twinkles at Haig and Haig across a mahogany bar. La Mariniere is a prison ship and she has no room for jests. But there are cynics on her passenger lists, men who have tasted the wine of life and have eaten its dust, men outward bound for French Guiana and hell.

For the Republic of France is amused by anachronisms. And La Mariniere is an anachronism. A prison ship sailing modern seas, is it not intriguing? Perhaps some Wilde will picture another bit of blue these voyageurs call their sky: perhaps some Lovelace will discover for them that even the penal isolation of French Guiana is not a cage. La Mariniere sails on. Classicists and romanticists, cynics and cooks, these branded brethren of despair continue their one determined and certain route. Outward bound delightful trip, and on the government. Bon voyage.