"Psha! they were only petty vexations, but now we are at sea. I shall be sea-sick. I am always obliged to throw off the accumulation of bile whenever I go out of harbour." "I say, doctor," replied Pearce, "can you stop up the leak in that little gentleman's liver? He's not content to keep a hand-pump going to get rid of his bile when in harbour, but it seems that he requires the chain-pumps to be manned when he goes to sea." "Chain-pumps!" exclaimed Courtenay, shuddering, and drawing back his head with a grimace at the idea of such a forcible discharge, and then looking round at his messmates with one of his serio-comic faces. "Pumps! ay," said Price; "you remember Shakespeare in the `Tempest'--he says--dear me,--I--" "Come, Price," said Courtenay, "don't make me sick before my time,--it's unkind. You don't know what an analogy there is between spouting and sea-sickness. In both cases you throw up what is nauseous, because your head or you stomach is too weak to retain it. Spare me, then, a quotation, my dear fellow, till you see me in the agony of Nature `aback,' and then one will be of service in assisting her efforts to `box off.' I say, Billy Pitt, did you stow away the two jars of pickled cabbage in my cabin?" We must here break off the conversation to introduce this personage to the reader. He was a black, who ran away, when quite a lad, from his master at Barbadoes, and entered on board of a man-of-war. Macallan, the surgeon, had taken a fancy to him, and he had been his servant for some years, following him into different ships. He was a very intelligent and singular character. Macallan had taught him to read and write, and he was not a little proud of his acquirements. He was excessively good-humoured, and a general favourite of the officers and ship's company, who used to amuse themselves with his peculiarities, and allow him a greater freedom than usual. But Billy's grand _forte_, in his own opinion, was a lexicographer. He had a small Entick's dictionary, which he always carried in his jacket-pocket, and nothing gave him so much pleasure as any one referring to him for the meaning of a hard word, which, although he could not always explain correctly, he certainly did most readily. Moreover, he was, as may be supposed, very fond of interlarding his conversation with high-sounding phraseology, without much regard as to the context. Although Billy Pitt was the doctor's servant, Courtenay, who had taken a great fancy to him, used to employ him as his own, to which, as the doctor was not a man who required much attendance himself, and was very good-natured, no objection had been raised. We must repeat the question-- "I say, Billy Pitt, did you stow away the two jars of pickled cabbage in my cabin?" "No, sar, I no hab'em to stow. Woman say, that Mr Kartney not pay for the pickled onun--say quite incongrous send any more."