storm. From the upper deck Chester and Elder Malby looked out on the
sublime spectacle. Like great, green, white-crested hills, the waves
raced along the vast expanse. Towards the afternoon the ship and the
wind had shifted their course so that the waves dashed with thunderous
roar against the iron sides of the vessel which only heaved and dipped
and went steadily on its way.

A number of ladies crowded on deck, and, aided by the stewards, were
safely tucked into chairs in places protected from wind and spray. The
deck stewards tempted them with broth, but they only sipped it
indifferently. These same ladies, just the day before had carried their
feather-tipped heads ever so stately. Now, alas, how had the mighty
leveler laid them low! They did not now care how their gowns fitted, or
whether their hats were on straight. Any common person, not afflicted
with sea-sickness, could have criticised their attitude in the chairs.
One became so indifferent to correct appearances that she slid from her
chair on to the deck, where she undignifiedly sprawled. The deck steward
had to tuck her shawls about her and assist her to a more lady-like
position.

"That's pretty tough," remarked Chester.

"All the wits have tried their skill on the subject of sea-sickness,"
said his companion; "but it's no joke to those who experience it."

"Can't we help those ladies?" asked Chester.

"Not very much. You will find the best thing to do is to let them alone.
They'll not thank you, not now, for any suggestion or proffer of help.
If you should be so foolish as to ask them what you could do for them,