‘_Bad weather!_’ exclaimed Jack, ‘why, my dear fellow, you don’t know what you’re talking about. This is _splendid_ weather. A fresh head-wind and a heavy ground swell! We couldn’t have had it better if it had been made to order.’ ‘Oh!--I see,’ groaned Mr Greenwood. ‘Well, if this is _good_ weather, I hope it won’t get any better, that’s all. I think I will take your advice, Mr Blythe, and go over to the lee side, if you will tell me where it is.’ ‘Why, it’s the _other_ side, of course,’ replied Jack good-humouredly; ‘and I’d put my head a little over the taffrail, if I were you, and take a good look at the fishes. I am sure you will feel the better for it afterwards.’ ‘Do you really?’ said Greenwood, with open eyes. ‘Well, you ought to know, so I will try it. Not that I feel ill, Mr Blythe, for I enjoy this sort of thing uncommonly, only I think the other side looks more comfortable than this. There’s so much wind here, it makes me quite giddy.’ And so, by dint of clutching the pinrail of the mizen-mast, and making a dart for the rigging, the unhappy youth managed to reach the opposite coop in safety. When Jack turned his head again to look at him, he saw that he had taken his advice, and hung his head well over the taffrail, where he appeared to be looking for something in the water, with his mouth wide open, and his eyes full of tears. Jack laughed till the tears came into his own, to see the little boastful dandy thus hung out to dry. In the second cabin and steerage the passengers were suffering the same tortures as their wealthier fellow-voyagers in the saloon. They had not to contend against the horrors of new paint and varnish, for their bulkheads were built of plain white wood, but their proximity to the cargo in the lower hold and the ’tween-decks rendered the creaking and groaning of the heavy merchandise very audible, and rendered it difficult for them to forget their troubles in sleep. Will Farrell, who was not subject to _mal-de-mer_, was untiring in his endeavours to help those who had succumbed to it. He did not forget Maggie in the steerage, and between ‘chaffing’ and feeding, he soon managed to bring her round again. The poor girl had been very ill at first, but she was a stout-hearted little woman, and when she heard that her mistress was much worse than herself, and steadily refused to take either medicine or food, she made a strenuous effort to go to her assistance, and she succeeded. She found Iris nearly prostrate, and broken down in mind and body. She was exhausted by sickness, but had resolutely refused to see the doctor, lest by some means he might find out who she was. The fact is, the poor child was quite ready to lie down and die. She would have been thankful not to get up again. There seemed nothing left for her to live for. The excitement of getting ready to follow her husband was over. Nothing remained now but a constant dread of detection, and