You must stand by me somehow or other and take me off when you can." The ladies waved their farewells, for people soon grow familiar and unconventional at sea.

Blair shouted, "Lennard's a born hospital nurse, but he'll overfeed your patient." Then amid falling shades and hollow moaning of winds the yacht drove slowly away with her foresail still aweather, and the fleet hung around awaiting the admiral's final decision.

The night dropped down; the moon had no power over the rack of dark clouds, and the wind rose, calling now and again like the Banshee.
A very drastic branch of Lewis Ferrier's education was about to begin.
Dear ladies! Kindly men! You know what the softly-lit, luxurious sick-room is like.

The couch is delicious for languorous limbs, the temperature is daintily adjusted, the nurse is deft and silent, and there is no sound to jar on weak nerves.

But try to imagine the state of things in the sick-room where Ferrier watched when the second gale came away.