The purser came and laughed at his distress, assuring him that he would survive. Next day he felt better and crawled out upon the deck. The sea still ran high, though the sky was clear, and the sun shone on the wildly agitated sea.
He saw a wretch as miserable as himself crouching under a hencoop and holding both hands upon his tortured stomach. John Stevens paused for a moment at the rail, gasping with seasickness.
"Say, neighbor, are you having a hard time?" asked the seasick but cheerful individual under the hencoop.
"My head hurts," John gasped.
"Verily, I ache all over," returned the new acquaintance under the hencoop.
At this moment the cabin door was thrown suddenly and unceremoniously open, and a man past middle age darted forward as if he had been shot out of a cannon and went sprawling upon the deck, howling as he did so:
"Good morrow, stranger!"
John was not astonished at the sudden appearance of the man, but was rather alarmed at the violence of his fall. He ran to him and assisted him to rise.
"Are you injured?" he asked.
"Nay, nay; the fall was not violent."