He went to supper, though little inclined to eat, and during the night was awakened with a load heavier than grindstones on his stomach.
"Surely I will die," he groaned, as each heaving billow seemed to torture his poor stomach.

He rose at dawn and found himself unable to stand.

The sea was rough, and the ship was tossing and reeling like a drunken man.

John found himself unable to lie down or sit up.

He spent the day in rolling alternately in his berth or on the floor, groaning, "Surely I will die." The purser came and laughed at his distress, assuring him that he would survive.