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"
Good
sailor
!
"
he
replied
in
answer
to
a
mild
young
man
's
envious
query
;
"
well
,
I
did
feel
a
little
queer
once
,
I
confess
.
It
was
off
Cape
Horn
.
The
vessel
was
wrecked
the
next
morning
.
"
I
said
:
"
Were
n't
you
a
little
shaky
by
Southend
Pier
one
day
,
and
wanted
to
be
thrown
overboard
?
"
"
Southend
Pier
!
"
he
replied
,
with
a
puzzled
expression
.
"
Yes
;
going
down
to
Yarmouth
,
last
Friday
three
weeks
.
"
"
Oh
,
ah
--
yes
,
"
he
answered
,
brightening
up
;
"
I
remember
now
.
I
did
have
a
headache
that
afternoon
.
It
was
the
pickles
,
you
know
.
They
were
the
most
disgraceful
pickles
I
ever
tasted
in
a
respectable
boat
.
Did
you
have
any
?
"
For
myself
,
I
have
discovered
an
excellent
preventive
against
sea-sickness
,
in
balancing
myself
.
You
stand
in
the
centre
of
the
deck
,
and
,
as
the
ship
heaves
and
pitches
,
you
move
your
body
about
,
so
as
to
keep
it
always
straight
.
When
the
front
of
the
ship
rises
,
you
lean
forward
,
till
the
deck
almost
touches
your
nose
;
and
when
its
back
end
gets
up
,
you
lean
backwards
.
This
is
all
very
well
for
an
hour
or
two
;
but
you
ca
n't
balance
yourself
for
a
week
.
George
said
:
"
Let
's
go
up
the
river
.
"
He
said
we
should
have
fresh
air
,
exercise
and
quiet
;
the
constant
change
of
scene
would
occupy
our
minds
(
including
what
there
was
of
Harris
's
)
;
and
the
hard
work
would
give
us
a
good
appetite
,
and
make
us
sleep
well
.
