"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 reasons for all this."
"I tell you there are none."
And, thinking thus, the professor had put on his life-belt. He wore it night and day, tightly buckled round his waist. He would not have taken it off for untold gold. Every time the sea gave him a moment's respite he would replenish it with another puff. In fact, he never blew it out enough to please him.