If that happens to be bad you will be dropped at Plymouth, and I'm afraid we are going to have a change." The second-mate was right, for before many hours had passed, and when Start and Prawle points had been pointed out as they loomed up out of the haze upon their right, the sea began to rise.

That night the wind was increasing to a gale, and Mark was oblivious, like several of the passengers, of the grandeur of the waves; neither did he hear the shrieking of the wind through the rigging.

What he did hear was the creaking and groaning of the timbers of the large ship as she rose and fell, and the heavy thud of some wave which smote her bows and came down like a cataract upon her deck.
"Come, Mark, Mark, my lad," the captain said, "you must hold up.

You're as bad as your mother." "Are we going to the bottom, father ?" was all Mark could gasp out.
"No, my boy," said the captain, laughing, "I hope not.

This is only what we sailors call a capful of wind." Mrs Strong was too ill to leave her cabin, but the first-mate came to give the sea-sick lad a friendly grip of the hand, and pat poor Bruff's head as he sat looking extremely doleful, and seeming to wonder what it all meant Mr Morgan, too, made his appearance from time to time.
Then all seemed to be rising up and plunging down with the shrieking of wind, the beating of the waves, and darkness, and sickness, and misery.
Was it day or was it night?
How long had he been ill?
How long was all this going to last?
Once or twice Mark tried to crawl out of his berth, but he was too weak and ill to stir; besides which, the ship was tossing frightfully, and once when the captain came in it seemed to the lad that he looked careworn and anxious.