The sea changed from grey to blue, and Tredgold and Stobell, coming on deck after a good breakfast, arranged a couple of chairs and sat down to admire the scene.
Aloft the new sails shone white in the sun, and spars and rigging creaked musically.

A little spray came flying at intervals over the bows as the schooner met the seas.
"Lovely morning, sir," said Captain Brisket, who had been for some time exchanging glances with Stobell and Tredgold; "so calm and peaceful." "Bu'ful," said Mr.Chalk, shortly.

He was gazing in much distaste at a brig to starboard, which was magically drawn up to the skies one moment and blotted from view the next.
"Nice fresh smell," said Tredgold, sniffing.

"Have a cigar, Chalk ?" Mr.Chalk shook his head, and his friend, selecting one from his case, lit it with a fusee that poisoned the atmosphere.
"None of us seem to be sea-sick," he remarked.
"Sea-sickness, sir," said Captain Brisket--"seasickness is mostly imagination.

People think they're going to be bad, and they are.