In strict justice, however, to his character, I must admit that, had circumstances been equal to his deserving, his nephew would never have been permitted to leave England with his consent; for, according to him, there was no place in all the world like England. On the third day the ‘Windermere’ was warped out of dock, and then a steam-tug towed her out into mid-river. Shortly after, a tug brought the crew alongside. Sail was loosened, and our ship was drawn towards the ocean, and, as she headed for the sea, the sailors, with rousing choruses, hoisted topsails, and sheeted them home. CHAPTER III AT SEA When the ‘Windermere’ was deserted by the tug, and she rose and fell to the waves, I became troubled with a strange lightness of the head, and presently I seemed to stand in the centre of a great circle around which sea, and sky, and ship revolved at great speed. Then for three days I lay oblivious, helpless, and grieving; but, at the deck-washing on the fourth morning, I was quickened into sudden life and activity by hearing a hoarse, rasping voice, whose owner seemed in a violent passion, bawling down the scuttle: ‘Now then, come out of that, you--young Britisher! Step up here in a brace of shakes, or I’ll come down and skin your ---- carcase alive!’ The furious peremptoriness of the voice was enough to rouse the dead, and the fear of the ogre’s threats drove all feelings of sickly wretchedness away, and drew me on deck immediately. My nerves tingled, and my senses seemed to swim, as I cast a look at the unsteady sea and uneasy ship; but the strong penetrating breeze was certainly a powerful tonic, though not such a reviver as the sight of the ireful fellow who came on at a tearing pace towards me and hissed: ‘Seize that scrubbing-broom, you--joskin! Lay hold of it, I say, and scrub, you--son of a sea-cook! Scrub like--! Scrub until you drop! Sweat, you--swab! Dig into the deck you ---- white-livered lime-juicer!’ I stole the briefest possible glance at his inflamed face, to catch some idea of the man who could work himself into such an intense rage, for he was a kind of creature never dreamed of before by me. Seeing me bend to my task without argument or delay, he darted to another boy on the lee side, and with extreme irony and retracted lips, stooped, with hands on knees, and said to him: ‘Now, Harry, my lad, I am sure you don’t want the toe of my boot to touch ungently those crescents of yours. Do you now?’ ‘No, sir,’ said the boy promptly. ‘All right, then, my sweet son of a gun. Lay your weight on that broom, and let her rip, d’ ye hear?’ ‘Aye, aye, sir.’