Now hang it! quoth I, as I look’d towards the French coast⁠—a man should know something of his own country too, before he goes abroad⁠⸺⁠and I never gave a peep into Rochester church, or took notice of the dock of Chatham, or visited St. Thomas at Canterbury, though they all three laid in my way⁠⸺⁠

—But mine, indeed, is a particular case⁠⸺⁠

So without arguing the matter further with Thomas o’ Becket, or anyone else⁠—I skip’d into the boat, and in five minutes we got under sail, and scudded away like the wind.

Pray, captain, quoth I, as I was going down into the cabin, is a man never overtaken by Death in this passage?

Why, there is not time for a man to be sick in it, replied he⁠⸺⁠What a cursed lyar! for I am sick as a horse, quoth I, already⁠⸺⁠what a brain!⁠⸺⁠upside down!⁠⸺⁠heyday! the cells are broke loose one into another, and the blood, and the lymph, and the nervous juices, with the fix’d and volatile salts, are all jumbled into one mass⁠⸺⁠good G⁠⸺! everything turns round in it like a thousand whirlpools⁠⸺⁠I’d give a shilling to know if I shan’t write the clearer for it⁠⸺⁠

Sick! sick! sick! sick!⁠⸺⁠

—When shall we get to land? captain⁠—they have hearts like stones⁠⸺⁠O I am deadly sick!⁠⸺⁠reach me that thing, boy⁠⸺’tis the most discomfiting sickness⁠⸺⁠I wish I was at the bottom⁠—Madam! how is it with you? Undone! undone! un⁠⸺⁠O! undone! sir⁠⸺⁠What the first time?⁠⸺⁠No, ’tis the second, third, sixth, tenth time, sir,⁠⸺⁠heyday!⁠—what a trampling over head!⁠—hollo! cabin boy! what’s the matter?⁠—

The wind chopp’d about! s’Death!⁠—then I shall meet him full in the face.

What luck!⁠—’tis chopp’d about again, master⁠⸺⁠O the devil chop it⁠⸺⁠

Captain, quoth she, for heaven’s sake, let us get ashore.