I went up to him to try and save him.
"Hi! come further in," I said, shaking him by the shoulder.

"You'll be overboard." "Oh my! I wish I was," was the only answer I could get; and there I had to leave him.
Three weeks afterwards, I met him in the coffee-room of a Bath hotel, talking about his voyages, and explaining, with enthusiasm, how he loved the sea.
"Good sailor!" he replied in answer to a mild young man's envious query; "well, I did feel a little queer _once_, I confess.

It was off Cape Horn.

The vessel was wrecked the next morning." I said: "Weren't you a little shaky by Southend Pier one day, and wanted to be thrown overboard ?" "Southend Pier!" he replied, with a puzzled expression.
"Yes; going down to Yarmouth, last Friday three weeks." "Oh, ah--yes," he answered, brightening up; "I remember now.

I did have a headache that afternoon.