Page:Letters from India Vol 1.djvu/52

 to be taken in any more than myself. I saw one of them just now twisting up a piece of oakum with a brokenhearted air.

I have reason to think that the chronometer is all wrong, and Captain G looked half affronted when I offered him my little Swiss watch, which is just the size of a shilling. We have not seen a single soul since we left Rio. We have been in a gale of wind which lasted forty-eight hours, and which, if it had lasted longer, would have exhausted me; for it came at the end of a four days’ calm, when we had been almost rolled and created into a state of idiocy. I get so exasperated—if running a pin through the floor of my cabin would scuttle the ship, I would not give much for its chance. There was I, at the end of four sleepless nights, peering over the sides of my cot upon the green baize carpet; turned into a large pool of water from the rain beating in. Books—chairs—boxes—baskets—all broke from their fastenings and splashing frantically about; the bulkheads roaring in every possible variety of tone—(those bulkheads will be found levelled by my single strength, some day). The waves high above the windows, and my cot and I swinging