"I thought it was your voice," he said, "What is it?" "He thinks the meat we had last night has poisoned him, sir!" "Rubbish! The rough sea. But I'll come and have a look at him directly." I ran back to our cabin, which I reached this time without going first on deck. "How are you now?" I said. "Is he coming soon?" moaned Walters. "Oh dear! He'll be too late. I know I'm dying; and if I do, don't--don't let 'em throw me overboard." "You're not so bad as that," I said, trying to cheer him up. "Oh, you don't know. Go and tell him to make haste before he is too late." To my surprise and delight the door was opened, and the doctor with a very rough head came in. "Now, squire," he cried, "what's the matter?" "Ah, doctor, oh!" "Ah, doctor, oh! Don't make that noise like an old woman of sixty. Pretty sort of a fellow you are to come to sea." "Oh dear, oh dear! I know I'm dying." "Then you are precious clever, my lad. Bah! There's nothing the matter with you but the sea tossing you up and down. Lie still, you'll soon come round." "It--isn't--sea--sick--ick--ickness," moaned Walters. "Then it's uncommonly like it, that's all I can say," cried the doctor, laughing. Then, turning to me--"There, you needn't be alarmed about him, my lad." "I wasn't sir," I replied. "I told him that was what ailed him." "And quite right. I suppose you'll have a turn next if this rough weather keeps on." "But do, do give me something, doctor," groaned Walters. "Your messmate will get you some tea presently," said the doctor, quietly. "There, I must go and finish dressing." And he left the cabin, while a good deal of my first work at sea was attending on poor Walters, who was about as bad as he could be for the next few days, during which the only passenger I saw was Mr Preddle, who came out of his cabin twice a day, looking miserably ill, and having hard work to stand; but Hampton the sailor and I used to help him go right forward to attend to his fish and then help him back again. "It's so good of you," he used to say; "I'm not used to the sea, and if I get worse, do please go and see to my poor fish." "Yes, they shan't be neglected," I said. "But I think the sea's going down, and you'll be all right, sir, then." He shook his head sorrowfully, and when I helped him to lie down again-- no easy task, for he was so big--he shut his eyes and whispered, "How is our sick friend?" he said. "What, Walters, my messmate?" "No, no, the passenger, Mr Denning." "I haven't seen him, but the steward said he seemed pretty well, sir." "Impossible. In such a delicate state of health. Have you seen the lady?" "No, she has not been on deck." "No. It would be too rough," sighed the poor fellow. "What's that?" he cried, excitedly, "something wrong?"