Adriatic at night

There were very few people aboard the Marco Polo the night we departed. After dropping our stuff off in our cabin (a budget version, with two bunks and a bench), we went to the top deck to watch Rijeka recede away after the ship's horns sounded. On deck there was a small family in flapping windbreakers and a guy talking on his cellphone to someone on shore. -I could tell because when we were too far to see people anymore he stood up on the railing and waved his scarf. 

After a while we set about exploring the ship. Over the cavernous vehicle bay were two or three floors of narrow halls lined with cabins. On top of this was a floor with a duty free shop holding liquor, a large brightly lit room with tables and chairs with a few people spread out reading or snacking, and a large dark lounge with a bar, comfortable banquettes, chairs and a couple TVs. 

A few more people were spread out here, chatting quietly, reading or playing cards. I sat there with a Campari and the Rough Guide to Croatia and after a while noticed that a number of people had staked out large quiet corners of the place to spread out their sleeping bags. 

I somewhat regretted spending the extra money for the cabin, as we had slept fine in the lounge several years ago on an overnight ferry in Newfoundland. I guess I'd been influenced by what I'd previously read regarding the large numbers of people traveling along this coast, but hadn't realized how much it drops off this time of year. 

Oh, well. The cabin did allow us a shower, and more privacy to snack on the bread, chocolate and wine we'd bought at the grocery store. 

The glaring lights of the outdoor deck made the sea look empty and black. However, the waves outside our small cabin window, gently lit by the glow off the side of the ship, were even more haunting. Here we could actually see how black the mystery is beyond the foamy green turmoil on the surface.