The deck steward was passing round tea and biscuits, much to the disgust of the ill ones, but to the keen satisfaction of the stronger stomached passengers who on shipboard never seem to be able to get enough to eat and drink.

On the bridge, the second officer, a tall, handsome man with the points of his moustache trained upwards a la Kaiser Wilhelm, was striding back and forth, every now and then sweeping the horizon with his glass and relieving the monotony of his duties by ogling the better looking women passengers.
"Hello, Shirley!" called out a voice from a heap of rugs as Shirley and Jefferson passed the rows of chairs.
They stopped short and discovered Mrs.Blake ensconced in a cozy corner, sheltered from the wind.
"Why, aunt Milly," exclaimed Shirley surprised.

"I thought you were downstairs.

I didn't think you could stand this sea." "It is a little rougher than I care to have it," responded Mrs.
Blake with a wry grimace and putting her hand to her breast as if to appease disturbing qualms.

"It was so stuffy in the cabin I could not bear it.