I tasted a morsel: the steward watched me with an ill-concealed grin; the meat, if meat it could be called, was hard as leather, salt as the brine over the side, of a texture and hue no more resembling corned beef such as we know the thing on shore than a whelk is like a turtle. Mr. Owen chewed and chewed. 'This is what the sailors make snuff-boxes and models of ships of,' said he. 'Is this as good as can be got?' I asked. 'As good as the best,' said the captain, looking at it earnestly. 'You'll have plenty to talk about when you get home,' said my old nurse. 'It is strange that science doesn't provide the seamen with food fit to eat,' said Mr. Owen, helping himself eagerly to a slice of ham. 'I believe I shall give the subject my attention when I get back.' 'Science doesn't think of sailors, only of ships,' said Captain Burke. 'If I had my way my crew should have a fresh mess every day. But you can't go to sea _all_ live stock.' Thus we chatted. I listened with interest and asked questions. It was a new life to me. Little did I then imagine how fearfully and tragically deep I was to read into the darkest secrets of it. During a few days, which carried us to the Madeira latitudes, the weather continued gloriously fine. A quiet north-westerly wind blew throughout; the ship leaned gently away from the breeze and rippled through the blue swell dreamily; all was so quiet aloft, all went so peacefully on deck. I'd hang over the side for an hour at a time, viewing the passage of the foam stars and flower-shaped bells, and wreaths of froth sliding aft into a white line on either hand the oil-smooth scope of wake; I'd watch with admiration the flight of the flying fish, glancing from the ship's side like arrows of light discharged through her metal sheathing; I'd drink in the large and liberal sweetness of the wind, and stand in the sun that its light might sink through and through me. In those few days Mr. Owen assured me the ocean had already done me good. 'But you are bound to profit,' he said as we walked the deck together, 'because you have not come too late to this physic of climates. People are sent to sea with one lung gone and the other going, and their friends wonder they should die, and talk of a voyage to sea as of no use where there is organic mischief. You are here in good time, Miss Otway: be that reflection your comfort.' Then there came a change of weather; a few days of wet gale; green seas ridging into cliffs upon the bow, and all the discomfort of a long pitching and tossing bout. But I suffered no longer from sickness however; I ate and slept well, and spent all the time in the cabin, reading, working, chatting with Mrs. Burke or her husband, or Mr. Owen.