The second day out the boys began to repeat all the poetry they could remember about the sea, and were surprised at the stock they had on hand. Fred recalled something he had read in Harper's Magazine, which ran as follows:
"Far upon the unknown deep,
'Mid the billows circling round,
Where the tireless sea-birds sweep;
Outward bound.
Nothing but a speck we seem,
In the waste of waters round,
Floating, floating like a dream;
Outward bound."
Frank was less sentimental, and repeated these lines:
"Two things break the monotony
Of a great ocean trip:
Sometimes, alas! you ship a sea,
And sometimes see a ship."
Then they called upon the Doctor for a contribution, original or selected, with this result:
"The praises of the ocean grand,
'Tis very well to sing on land.
'Tis very fine to hear them carolled
By Thomas Campbell or Childe Harold;
But sad, indeed, to see that ocean
From east to west in wild commotion."
THE WIND RISING.
The wind had been freshening since noon, and the rolling motion of the ship was not altogether agreeable to the inexperienced boys. They were about to have their first acquaintance with sea-sickness; and though they held on manfully and remained on deck through the afternoon, the ocean proved too much for them, and they had no appetite for dinner or supper. But their malady did not last long, and by the next morning they were as merry as ever, and laughed over the event. They asked the Doctor to explain the cause of their trouble, but he shook his head, and said the whole thing was a great puzzle.