It is a peculiar fact of ocean travel that whenever a ship is about to put to sea the general topic of conversation seems to hover around one point--seasickness. Everywhere one turned that beautiful morning the fatal word pursued one. "Ever been seasick, Jack?" "Well, only onct in a big typhoon coming across from Formosa," or: "Nuh, this is the first time I’ve been to sea, but I’ve struck her some rough in the lakes, and I guess I can stand it," or: "Son, if you get sick and want a quick cure, take a nice piece of fat pork, tie a string to it and----" but why go into further detail, when the men who never before had seen blue water were half sick before they left the wharf, so vivid their imagination, and thoroughly sick when finally the _Denver_ began digging her nose in the short seas they encountered on leaving the protection of the inland waterways! Henry Cabell had fully determined he would not be seasick, but the sight of so many in that predicament placed his resolutions in the realm of other broken vows, and he was soon _hors de combat_. Dick, on the contrary, never felt the slightest discomfort, over which good fortune he was highly elated. He did not do as many others did, namely, gloat over the misery of the less fortunate ones. The evening of the second day out found nearly all the sick men on the upper decks, albeit many were "green in the gills" from their unpleasant experience. "You feel as if you didn’t care whether you died or not," said Henry, while he and Dick stood at the bow of the ship holding to the life-lines that encompassed the entire main deck, "but I don’t reckon I’ll be sick again. I feel nearly all right now, and even this sudden dipping and stomach-dropping rising hardly gives me a squirm." Dick did not answer. He was hanging over the rail looking down at the slight lines of phosphorescence spreading out in quivering angles from the bows with each plunge of the ship. He was enjoying every moment of this new life. No longer did he regret his inability to get the appointment to Annapolis, for already the spell of the Marine Corps was clutching at every fibre of his being, claiming him body and soul for its service. In the crew’s library he had found a copy of Collum’s History of the Corps and for the first time he was reveling in its illustrious deeds from the day of its inception, which antedated the regular Navy and even the Declaration of Independence,--November 11, 1775, up to and including the part they took in the relief of Pekin in July, 1900. As they stood there, Corporal Dorlan, making the round of sentinels, stopped for a moment’s converse.