I was pretty bad myself, but managed to move about all the time, for the frowst in my cabin would have sickened a hippo.

The old tub took two days and a night to waddle from Ushant to Finisterre.

Then the weather changed and we came out of snow-squalls into something very like summer.

The hills of Portugal were all blue and yellow like the Kalahari, and before we made the Tagus I was beginning to forget I had ever left Rhodesia.

There was a Dutchman among the sailors with whom I used to patter the taal, and but for 'Good morning' and 'Good evening' in broken English to the captain, that was about all the talking I did on the cruise.
We dropped anchor off the quays of Lisbon on a shiny blue morning, pretty near warm enough to wear flannels.