had got
on board the "Polynesia"; of the parting from all friends and things we
loved, forever, as far as we knew; of the strange experience at various
strange places; of the kind friends who helped us, and the rough
officers who commanded us; of the quarantine, the hunger, then the happy
news, and the coming on board. Of all this I thought, and remembered
that we were far away from friends, and longed for them, that I might be
made well by speaking to them. And every minute was making the distance
between us greater, a meeting more impossible. Then I remembered why we
were crossing the ocean, and knew that it was worth the price. At last
the noise of the wheels overhead, and the dull roar of the sea, rocked
me to sleep.

For a short time only. The ship was tossed about more than the day
before, and the great waves sounded like distant thunder as they beat
against it, and rolled across the deck and entered the cabin. We found,
however, that we were better, though very weak. We managed to go on deck
in the afternoon, when it was calm enough. A little band was playing,
and a few young sailors and German girls tried even to dance; but it was
impossible.

As I sat in a corner where no waves could reach me, holding on to a
rope, I tried to take in the grand scene. There was the mighty ocean I
had heard of only, spreading out its rough breadth far, far around, its
waves giving out deep, angry tones, and throwing up walls of spray into
the air. There was the sky, like the sea, full of ridges of darkest
clouds, bending to meet the waves, and following their motions and
frowning and threatening. And there was the "Polynesia" in the midst of
this world of gloom, and anger, and distance. I saw these, but
indistinctly, not half comprehending the wonderful picture. For the
suffering had left me dull and tired out. I only knew that I was sad,
and everybody else was the same.

Another day gone, and we congratulate one another that seasickness
lasted only one day with us. So we go to sleep.

Oh, the sad mistake! For six days longer we remain in our berths,
miserable and unable to eat. It is a long fast, hardly interrupted,
during which we know that the weather is unchanged, the sky dark, the
sea stormy.

On the eighth day out we are again able to be about. I went around
everywhere, exploring every corner, and learning much from the sailors;
but I never remembered the names of the various things I asked about,
they were so many,