Mother Mary was very angry, as I could see by her face; and indeed I heard her remonstrating with the captain very energetically on the subject; but he only shrugged his shoulders and said it was not his fault. He had taken command of the ship only a few days before, and that not by any good-will of his own. He added, however, that now he was appointed to the command, he meant to exercise it, and intimated to Mother Mary very plainly that she had better mind her own business. She certainly had enough to mind. Half the girls were crying or in hysterics; everything was in confusion. We were dreadfully in the way on deck, but no one could bear the idea of going below. Mother Mary at last restored some sort of quiet, and calling me to help her, with the remark that I seemed to have some spirit and sense, we began to try to put our cabin into better order. It was discouraging work, for everything was wanting for comfort or decency; but we worked hard, and by night we had things in better trim. The girls had had their cry out and felt for the time in good spirits. We did not set sail till about six in the evening, being kept by the state of the tide, but at last we were off. The land gradually faded from view; we lost sight of the lights in the city, and before bedtime we were out in the open sea, and every soul but myself was overcome with the first depressing feelings of sea-sickness. I had a busy time enough for the next week. Every passenger was sick, including Mother Mary herself, who was one of the worst, though she strove against the weakness with all the force of her strong will. But, in truth, a strong will does little for one when one's heels are one moment higher than one's head, and the next knocked violently on the floor, and every portable article is sliding about trying its best to break everything else. We had a stormy voyage from the first, though the winds were for the most part favorable, and the passage promised to be short. But it was wretchedly uncomfortable. The ship was ill-found and hardly seaworthy. She was crammed with goods, which were thrust even into our cabin, thus abridging the small room allotted to us. The water was bad, and the sailors stole our wine; our provisions were not fit for well people, not to say invalids, and short as our passage was, we had more than one case of scurvy. Poor Desirée succumbed under her hardships and died when we had been out about three weeks. I had become greatly attached to her, but I could not weep for her death. It seemed a merciful deliverance.