of course he had no leeboard to keep him in. The ship gave a lee-lurch,
and shot him clean out of his bunk into the middle of the cabin.

He shrieked and shrieked, with terror and pain, till the captain and
Staines, who were his nearest neighbors, came to him, and they gave him
a little brandy, and got him to bed again. Here he suffered nothing but
violent seasickness for some hours. As for Staines, he had been swinging
heavily in his cot; but such was his mental distress that he would have
welcomed seasickness, or any reasonable bodily suffering. He was in that
state when the sting of a wasp is a touch of comfort.

Worn out with sickness, Tadcaster would not move. Invited to breakfast,
he swore faintly, and insisted on dying in peace. At last exhaustion
gave him a sort of sleep, in spite of the motion, which was violent, for
it was now blowing great guns, a heavy sea on, and the great waves dirty
in color and crested with raging foam.

They had to wear ship again, always a ticklish manoeuvre in weather like
this.

A tremendous sea struck her quarter, stove in the very port abreast of
which the little lord was lying, and washed him clean out of bed into
the lee scuppers, and set all swimming around him.

Didn't he yell, and wash about the cabin, and grab at all the chairs
and tables and things that drifted about, nimble as eels, avoiding his
grasp!

In rushed the captain, and in staggered Staines. They stopped his
"voyage autour de sa chambre," and dragged him into the after saloon.