'..it was as a maundering young wretch in a clammy perspiration and dripping saline particles, who was conscious of no extremities but the one great extremity, sea-sickness who was a mere bilious torso, with a mislaid headache somewhere in its stomach who had been put into a horrible swing in Dover, and had tumbled giddily out of it on the French coast, or the Isle of Man, or anywhere.
A stout wooden wedge driven in at my right temple and out at my left, a floating deposit of lukewarm oil in my throat, and a compression of the bridge of my nose in a blunt pair of pincers, these are the personal sensations by which I know we are off.......'
Oh, for it to be over. At least it wasn't a five day voyage, and hopefully in a week or so my family will start talking to me again.