He made the best of his unpleasant situation.

Sleep was not to be wooed, and he tried to pass away the dreary hours in thinking of Riverdale and the dear ones there.

His mother was asleep, and Annie was asleep; and that was about all the excitement he could get up even on the home question.

He could not build castles in the air, for seasickness and castle building do not agree.

The gold and purple clouds would be black in spite of him, and the aerial structure he essayed to build would pitch and tumble about, for all the world, just like a steamboat in a heavy sea.
As often as he got fairly into it, he was violently rolled out, and in a twinkling found himself in his narrow berth, awfully seasick.
He went to sleep again at last, and the long night passed away.