Another morning of overcast sky and leaden sea, and of the _Elsinore_, under half her canvas, clanging her deck ports, spouting water from her scuppers, and dashing eastward into the heart of the Atlantic.

And I have failed to sleep half-an-hour all told.

At this rate, in a very short time I shall have consumed all the cream of tartar on the ship.

I never have had hives like these before.

I can't understand it.