“If you will allow me to divide the expense,” Mr. Coulson replied, “I shall be exceedingly obliged to you, and will accept your offer. I am, unfortunately, a bad sailor.”
“That is as you will, sir,” the gentleman answered. “The amount is only trifling.”
The night was a bright one, but there was a heavy sea running, and even in the harbor the boat was rocking. Mr. Coulson groaned as he made his way across the threshold of the cabin.
“I am going to have a horrible time,” he said frankly. “I am afraid you’ll repent your offer before you’ve done with me.”
His new friend smiled.
“I have never been seasick in my life,” he said, “and I only engage a cabin for fear of wet weather. A fine night like this I shall not trouble you, so pray be as ill as you like.”
“It’s nothing to laugh at,” Mr. Coulson remarked gloomily.
“Let me give you a little advice,” his friend said, “and I can assure you that I know something of these matters, for I have been on the sea a great deal. Let me mix you a stiff brandy and soda. Drink it down and eat only a dry biscuit. I have some brandy of my own here.”
“Nothing does me any good,” Mr. Coulson groaned.
“This,” the stranger remarked, producing a flask from his case and dividing the liquor into equal parts, “may send you to sleep. If so, you’ll be across before you wake up. Here’s luck!”