We sailed from London on October 1st, and had a smooth trip down the Channel, but I soon found my patient was much more of an invalid than I had expected, and was afraid he would get cold before we got into a warmer climate. The first Sunday out we ran into a dense fog off Cape Finisterre, and our morning service was somewhat disturbed by the constant hooting of the foghorn; some of the passengers jumped up from their knees at each hoot, and the captain cut the service rather short and went up on the bridge. In a couple of hours we emerged into lovely sunshine, which soon dried the wet decks and awnings, but the next day, as we were putting on full steam to get into Gibraltar before sunset, we again ran into a thick bank of fog, and eventually had to change our course and put out to sea until the morning, as they are not allowed to run through the Straits after sunset. The next morning I was up on deck before five, just as we were running into Gibraltar, and to watch the sun rise from behind the great rock was a most impressive sight. We had a pleasant trip down the Mediterranean until we entered the Gulf of Lyons, and then the wind got up, and there was a nasty cross sea which made most of us feel squeamish and not sorry when we anchored at Marseilles early one morning; but there we had to tranship to a smaller steamer, and it was raining and cold, and when we got on board the _Clyde_ we found they were still coaling, and that the lighter with all our baggage on board was not likely to come for some time, so we could not establish ourselves in our cabins. As there seemed no comfortable place on the boat, we concluded the best thing to do was to take a cab and drive up to a hotel to get warm. Then I went out to buy fresh cream and grapes, and to find out exactly at what time it was necessary to be on board. I shall never forget the storm of that night after we left Marseilles. I tried to make some hot arrowroot; with much patience I managed it over a spirit lamp, which I wedged into my washing basin with supports; of course the tin of milk could not be trusted to sit on the top of the lamp, so I had to hold it there, and it was not an easy matter as I was flung from side to side in my cabin; then I found that a linseed poultice was indicated, so I again retired to my cabin and wrestled with the spirit lamp, and thought how little one appreciates the conveniences of a modern hospital until one has to do without them. After that the groans and fearsome noises from other cabins around us were very bad, and I, who have always prided myself on being a good sailor, actually succumbed for an hour or two; but I dragged myself up again in the early hours of the morning to make another poultice, and by breakfast-time the sea began to go down, and the sun came out, but it was several days before some of the passengers crawled up on deck, looking like limp rags, and the tables in the saloon were very empty until just before we reached Alexandria.