me now. How long shall
I be ill?"

"Well, if it gets rough, as it promises to, I dare say you'll have a
week of it."

"A week?" groaned Syd.

Then some time after, to himself, between bad paroxysms of misery--

"Never mind," he said; "by the time I am able to go on deck again I
shall look fit to be seen."

It was about a couple of hours later, when the frigate had got beyond a
great point which jutted out into the sea, and began to stretch away for
the ocean, that Syd awakened to the fact that the vessel seemed to be
having a game with him. She glided up and up, bearing him tenderly and
gently as it were up to the top of a hill of water, and then, after
holding him there for a moment, she dived down and left him, with a
horrible sensation of falling that grew worse as the wind increased, and
the _Sirius_ heeled over.

"I wonder whether, if I made a good brave effort, I could master this
giddy weak sensation," thought the boy. "I'll try."

He made his effort--a good, bold, brave effort--and then he lay down and
did not try to make any more efforts for a week, when after passing
through what seemed to be endless misery, during which he lay helplessly
in his hammock, listening to the creaking of the ship's timbers and the
rumble that went on overhead, and often thinking that the ship was
diving down into the sea never to come up again, he was aroused by a
gruff voice, which sounded like Barney Strake's. It was very dark, and
he felt too ill to open his eyes, but he spoke and said--

"Is that you, bo'sun?"

"Ay, ay, my lad; me it is. Come, rouse and bit."

"I couldn't, Barney," said Syd, feebly. "The very thought of a bit of
anything makes me feel worse."

"Yah! not it; and I didn't mean eat; I meant turn out, have a good wash,
and dress, and come on deck."

"I should die if I tried."

"Die, lad? What, you? Any one would think you was ill."

"I am, horribly."

"Yah! nonsense! On'y squirmy. Weather's calming down now, and you'll
be all right."

"No, Barney; never any more," sighed Syd. "I say."

"Ay, my lad. What is it?"

"Will they bury me at sea, Barney?"

"Haw--haw--haw!" laughed the bo'sun. "He thinks he's going to die!
Why, Master Syd, I did think you had a better heart."

"You don't know how ill I am," said the boy, feebly.

"Yes I do, zackly. I've seen lots bad like you, on'y it arn't bad, but
doing you good."

"No, Barney; you don't know," said Syd, a little more forcibly.