he breeze strengthened considerably, and changed to
south-westerly. It was a head-wind for the _Dream_, and the waves had
now increased enormously, and lifted her forward. The sails were all
furled, and she had to depend on her screw alone; under half steam,
however, so as to avoid excessive labouring.

Godfrey bore the trial of the ship's motion without even losing his
good-humour for a moment. Evidently he was fond of the sea.

But Tartlet was not fond of the sea, and it served him out.

It was pitiful to see the unfortunate professor of deportment deporting
himself no longer, the professor of dancing dancing contrary to every
rule of his art. Remain in his cabin, with the seas shaking the ship
from stem to stern, he could not.

"Air! air!" he gasped.

And so he never left the deck. A roll sent him rolling from one side to
the other, a pitch sent him pitching from one end to the other. He clung
to the rails, he clutched the ropes, he assumed every attitude that is
absolutely condemned by the principles of the modern choregraphic art.
Ah! why could he not raise himself into the air by some balloon-like
movement, and escape the eccentricities of that moving plane? A dancer
of his ancestors had said that he only consented to set foot to the
ground so as not to humiliate his companions, but Tartlet would
willingly never have come down at all on the deck, whose perpetual
agitation threatened to hurl him into the abyss.

What an idea it was for the rich William W. Kolderup to send him here.

"Is this bad weather likely to last?" asked he of Captain Turcott twenty
times a day.

"Dunno! barometer is not very promising!" was the invariable answer of
the captain, knitting his brows.

"Shall we soon get there?"

"Soon, Mr. Tartlet? Hum! soon!"

"And they call this the Pacific Ocean!" repeated the unfortunate man,
between a couple of shocks and oscillations.

It should be stated that, not only did Professor Tartlet suffer from
sea-sickness, but also that fear had seized him as he watched the great
seething waves breaking into foam level with the bulwarks of the
_Dream_, and heard the valves, lifted by the violent beats, letting the
steam off through the waste-pipes, as he felt the steamer tossing like a
cork on the mountains of water.

"No," said he with a lifeless look at his pupil, "it is not impossible
for us to capsize."

"Take it quietly, Tartlet," replied Godfrey. "A ship was made to float!
There are reaso