not
been our intention to become sailors. We would merely use the sea and
its ships as a means of conveyance in our scheme of travel.

... Breakfast at six o'clock; two messes,--one of the crew, the other
comprising our party and the captain. The men had boiled potatoes,
fried pork, corn-bread, and biscuit. At our table we had roast
potatoes and butter with corn-bread, then biscuit and butter with
canned tomatoes. After breakfast, we went on deck a while; but the
motion was far too great for comfort. The breeze held. The coast of
Massachusetts was low in the west. To the north, the mountains of
Maine showed blue on the horizon. We went below to read. Raed had
bought, borrowed, and secured every work he could hear of on northern
voyages and exploration, particularly those into Hudson Bay. It was
our intention to thoroughly read up the subject during our voyage: in
a word, to get as good an idea of the northern coast as possible from
books, and confirm this idea from actual observation. This was the
substance of Raed's plan of study.

... By eleven o'clock we had grown a little sea-sick,--just the
slightest feeling of nausea. Kit shuts his book, rests his arm on the
table, and leans his head on it.

"You sick?" demands Raed.

"Oh, no! not much; just a little squeamish."

Presently Wade lies down on his mattress, and I immediately ask,--

"Much sick, Wade?" To which he promptly replies,--

"Oh, no! squeamish a little; that's all."

By and by the skipper looks down to inquire, "Sick here, anybody?" To
which we all answer at once,--

"Oh, no! only a bit squeamish."'

_Squeamish_ was the word for it till near night, when we seemed
suddenly to rally from it, though the motion continued the same; but
the wind had veered to the south, and almost wholly lulled. We slept
pretty well that night; but the next forenoon the nausea returned, and
stuck by us all day. Every one who has been to sea knows how such a
day passes. We had expected it, however, and bore it as lightly as
possible.

... On the third morning out we found it raining, with the wind
north-east. The schooner was kept as near it as possible, making about
three knots an hour. The wind increased during the forenoon. By eleven
o'clock there was a smart gale on. The rain drove fiercely. We grew
sick enough.

"This is worse than the 'poison spring' at Katahdin!" groaned Kit.

The skipper came down.

"Is it a big gale?" Raed managed to ask.

"Just an ord