nd, and trusting myself to the
fickle and deceitful sea. In a few moments these disquieting hints had
grown to a positive clamor, and my head and heels were feeling very
much as do those of gentlemen who have been dining out with "terrapin
and seraphim" and their liquid accompaniments. At this time Miss R----
gave out utterly and went below, but I was filled with the idea that
seasickness can be overcome by an effort of will, and stayed on,
making an effort to "demonstrate," as the Christian Scientists say,
and trying to look as if nothing were the matter. The San Francisco man
remained by me, persistent in an apparently disinterested attempt to
entertain me; but I was not deluded, for I recognized in his devotion
the fiendish joy of the un-seasick watching the unconfessed tortures
of those who are.

It was five o'clock when I gasped with a last effort of facetious
misery, "And yet they say people come to sea for their health," and
went below. The Farralones Islands, great pinky-gray needles of bleak
rock, were sticking up somewhere in the silvery haze on our starboard
side, and I loathed the Farralones Islands, and the clean white ship,
and myself most of all for embarking upon an idiotic voyage.

Arrived in the stateroom, it was with little less than horror that I
saw Miss R---- in the lower berth--my berth. Such are the brutalizing
influences of seasickness that I immediately reminded her that hers
was above. She dragged herself out, and, in a very ecstasy of selfish
misery, I discarded my garments and burrowed into the warmth of my
bed. Never had blankets seemed more comfortable, for, between the
wind and the seasickness, I was chilled through and through.

I fell asleep through sheer exhaustion, and wakened some time after
in darkness. The waves were hissing and slapping at the porthole;
the second steward was cursing expertly in the linen closet, which
happened to be opposite our stateroom; and somewhere people in good
health were consuming viands, for cooking odors and the rattle of
dishes came to us. A door in the corridor opened, and the sound of
a cornet was wafted back from the forward deck. Somebody was playing
"The Holy City." Steps went by. A voice with an English accent said,
"By Jove, you can't get away from that tune," and, in one of those
instants of stillness which fall in the midst of confusion, I heard
a gurgling moan.

I snapped on the light and turned--at what cost only the seasick
can apprec