It must not be thought that these ships, carrying as much as a hundred passengers besides their crew on this rather long journey, were great, well-appointed vessels. They very much resembled the pilgrim-ships of the present day, which carry every year to Jeddah, on the Red Sea, crowds of Arabs on their way to Mecca. The travellers were huddled together in most uncomfortable fashion, and had ample opportunities to do penance and offer their sufferings to the saint. This is no surmise, for one of those English pilgrims duly allowed to go to Galicia, provided they did not reveal the secrets of the realm, has rimed an account of his experiences, so we know what they were. Do not think of laughing, says he, when you go by sea to St. James’s; there is sea-sickness; the sailors push you about under pretext that you hinder the working of the ship; the smell is not pleasant: {379} “Men may leve alle gamys That saylen to Seynt Jamys! Ffor many a man hit gramys (vexes) When they begin to sayle. Ffor when they have take the see, At Sandwych or at Wynchylsee, At Bristow, or where that hit bee, Theyr hertes begyn to fayle.” The mocking remarks of the seamen are painful to bear. Says the captain: “Some ar lyke to cowgh and grone Or hit be full mydnyght;” and then turning to his men: “‘Hale the bowelyne! now, vere the shete! Cooke, make redy anoon our mete, Our pylgryms have no lust to ete, I pray God yeve hem rest!’ ‘Go to the helm! what, howe! no nere? Steward, felow! A pot of bere!’— ‘Ye shalle have sir, with good chere, Anon alle of the best.’” Sick pilgrims could not eat, and were jeered at, they found the time long; some, with a book on their knees, tried to read, but then they felt as if their head would burst: “Som layde theyr bookys on theyr kne, And rad so long they myght nat se;— ‘Allas! myne hede wolle cleve on thre!’” When at their worst, comes a facetious sailor to bawl out in their ears: Cheer up, in a moment we shall be in a storm! {380} “Then cometh oone and seyth: ‘Be mery; Ye shall have a storme or a pery’ (a squall) * * * * * Thys mene whyle the pylgryms ly And have theyr bowlys (basins) fast theym by, And cry after hot malvesy.” In short, they were very unhappy, and as the narrator said at first, little inclined to games and laughter.[535]