This was Godfrey’s opinion, when in his clean, light summer suit he stepped airily on board and gave his hand to Bob Macpherson, even then growing pale about the lips and unsteady in his feet. But when they had been out a few hours, and a great lurch came, and the waves broke over the deck, and splashed Godfrey’s clean pants, and dashed the salt spray in his face, he, too, began to turn white, and feel, as he expressed it, as if the ends of his toes were coming up through his stomach to pay his throat a visit, and when the toes reached there and showed signs of going still further, the young man succumbed to his fate, and suddenly disappearing from view, went headlong into the room where poor Bob had lain from the first, caring little whether his perfumed hair was parted in the middle or not, or his elaborate night-shirt buttoned before or behind. Personal appearance was nothing in that stateroom where the two young men lay, one in the upper, one in the under berth, and both too sick for more exertion than to groan, when a swell, heavier than usual, sent them rolling on the floor. Regularly each morning _Dan_ went in to see how it fared with them, offering chicken-broth and coffee, and bidding them “keep up their courage and have a little pluck; it was nothing to what it would be.” To these consolatory remarks Bob offered no response. He was too nearly crushed to speak, and afraid, withal, to do so, as the least movement raised a tornado in his stomach; but Godfrey was more demonstrative, and having plunged into bed in his boots, which he had succeeded in getting off and had beside him, he hurled one at the head of poor Dan, who adroitly dodged it and then graciously adjusted the spittoon, knowing it would be needed after such exertion. And it was! “Talk to me of pluck!” Godfrey said, between the upheavings which nearly burst his throat; “I believe my soul I’m throwing mine up!” and then he lay back upon his pillow, white, quivering and subdued, and took a swallow of the broth and declared it was made of dishwater, and bade Dan clear out and never show himself there again. Regularly, twice each day, the colonel visited his son, and made set speeches to him, and bade him try to dress himself and get on deck, where the air would soon restore him. “Mrs. Schuyler is there, and nearly well, and she was as bad as you, and worse, for she could not flounce as you do. A little effort of the will is all that is necessary to set you on your legs.” Unconsciously, he was quoting Godfrey’s own words, and poor Bob ventured a little chuckle, which he paid for afterward, while Godfrey wished there was no such commandment as the third, so that he might free his mind for once.