“My dear lad, I know exactly,” said the captain. “Come, pluck up your courage; we’re going to have a glorious day, and the wind will drop before noon. Take my advice: go below to have a good tubbing, and dress yourself again, and by breakfast-time you’ll be beginning to wonder that you should have felt so queer; and mind this, sea-sickness isn’t a disease: it’s a—well, it’s a— Ah, here’s the doctor. Morning, Doctor Instow, you’re just in time. What is sea-sickness?”
“A precious nuisance for those who are troubled with it,” said the doctor heartily. “Morning. Morning, Meadows. Why, Jack, lad, this is grand. You’ve quite stolen a march on me. I say, you mean you’re over your bit of misery then. My word, what a jolly morning. Hullo! going below?”
“Yes,” said Jack quietly, as he began to move toward the cabin hatch.
“Take my arm, Mr Jack,” said the captain kindly.
“No, thank you,” said the lad. “I want to get to be able to balance.”
Sir John said nothing, but stood with the others watching the lad’s unsteady steps till he disappeared.
“He’ll do now, sir,” said the captain.
“Do?” cried the doctor; “I should think he will. Why, Meadows, he has got all the right stuff in him: it only wants bringing out. Nothing like the sea for a lad, is there, captain?”
“Nothing, sir,” said that gentleman. “It makes a boy manly and self-reliant. He may turn out a bit rough, but it’s rough diamond. Sir John, pray don’t you think from what I say that I’m one of those carneying, flattering sort of chaps who ought to be kicked all round the world for the sneaks they are. What I say is quite honest. That’s a fine lad of yours: he’s as nervous now as a girl, and no wonder, seeing how weak and delicate he is, but I watched him this morning, and he’s fighting it all down like a fellow with true grit in him, at a time too when he’s feeling downright bad. You won’t hardly know him in a month.”
Sir John nodded and walked away, to go and stand by himself looking out to sea.