Just as, at Monaco, you never fail to come across a gambler who has his system, you rarely take a sea journey without meeting with the good soul who has an infallible preventive for seasickness. "This succeeds with nine persons out of ten," she tells you. Next time you cross, you try it, but only to find that you are evidently the tenth. However, it is not a failure or two that can shake the blind confidence she has in her remedy, I must say it to her credit.
⁂
Though there exists no cure for this strange evil, I think, notwithstanding, that by the exercise of a little self-control, one can retard the catastrophe. At least such is my experience.
We were one day between Guernsey and Southampton, just near the Casquettes, where the Channel makes things very uncomfortable for you, if there is the least wind blowing. I had curled myself up in a corner in the stern of the boat and was preparing to feel very sadly. Up came two French ladies, appearing, like myself, to have strayed that way in search of solitude.
"Saperlotte," thought I, "here are women looking at you, my boy; be a man."
I fixed my eyes on a point of the horizon, and no doubt appeared to my neighbors to be plunged in profound contemplation.
The ladies took up their position not very far from me, and began to heave very heavy sighs. I looked at them. They were green.
"Ah, Monsieur!" said one of them to me, "how fortunate you are, not to be ill!"
I was saved, for the moment at all events. It put fresh strength into me. Forcing a smile, and gathering up my courage, I had the impudence to affirm that I felt pretty well. The effort of the will had the power to keep the evil in check.
At that moment I understood how you can make a hero of a frightened soldier by telling him that bravery is written in his eyes.