Lillian Roy - Polly's Southern Cruise

Perhaps it was due to obeying his advice to lie down for a short time; perhaps it was the partaking of too much of the delicious viands provided by the jewel of a chef; perhaps it was just plain old sea sickness – but whatever it was, let it here be stated that only two adults appeared in the dining room that evening for dinner: Mrs. Courtney and Mr. Dalken.

Having waited and waited for the appearance of the others in their party, and having ascertained by continued perseverance of a questionnaire, in the form of a ’phone, that his guests preferred to dine in bed, Mr. Dalken finally concluded to eat. Therefore he sent word by said ’phone to ascertain how many trays would be wanted by sick friends.

The reply caused Mrs. Courtney a hearty laugh, while Mr. Dalken found ample pleasure for the next week in referring to that night’s experience, and to their curt thanks to his humanitarian impulses.

Elizabeth had not joined her father’s guests at tea that late afternoon for the very good reason that she threw herself upon the bed in her room and was glad enough to remain there for several days. She had eaten three times as much candy and fruit as any one of her companions, and now she was paying the price for self-indulgence. Where now were all her brags about being such a splendid sailor!

It was not an individual weakness on the part of Polly and Eleanor that they succumbed to the attack of sea sickness soon after they reached their small rooms. But they were not aware at the time that all adults, excepting Mr. Dalken and Mrs. Courtney, had decided against dining that night, and remained in their own rooms instead. Had the two girls dreamed of the truth, that the two pawns in their match-making game were enjoying a tête-à-tête dinner and evening together, this knowledge would have done much to console them for their weird sensations within.

As the evening advanced the gale increased, and those who felt too ill to leave their beds feared lest they might survive till morning. The yacht could not sink quick enough to please them. Elizabeth was one of this group of morbid sailors. The members of the other group who felt able to hold up their heads and take a squint at the turbulent waters and sky now and then when the craft seemed to spin about on a pivot, or suddenly soar to the sky and as quickly change its course to sink to the bottom of the sea, prayed and prayed that the shores of Florida might loom up within the next few hours – that they might go ashore.

These prayers, being selfish ones, were not answered, and the coast of Florida remained where it had been placed in the order of arranging the New World.

Having managed to drag herself across her room to the porthole, Polly looked out to see whether the moon was the next stop. She thought the yacht had been going, prow upwards, for the last hour. To her amazement she saw they were still on the sea, but such a sea! So tumbled and troubled that she wished for oil to pour upon it.

Eleanor and Polly shared one room, and now Eleanor lifted her head and wailed: “What do you see, Poll?”

“I see sea, that’s all. Oh, my head!” and Polly fell into a chair and caught her head between her hands.

In spite of her wish to die, Eleanor could not refrain from laughing at her chum. “I should have said you see saw, instead of see sea, judging from the ‘now we go up, and now we go down’ behavior of the board we are on.”

But no answering smile came from Polly’s somber face.

Eleanor, not to be discouraged in her wish to help her friend cheer up, murmured: “If we feel this way, Poll, how do you suppose precious Totty is doing?”

This struck Polly’s sense of humor at the right moment. She had to laugh in spite of her wish to ponder on death and the hereafter. The picture of Elizabeth as she bragged of her seamanship, gave cause to a duet of merriment from the two girls. This acted like a tonic, and thenceforth they began to feel easier. Then, too, the gale had spent its fury and began gradually to calm down.

A soft knock on the door of their room brought forth the command to come in. Mrs. Courtney, looking magnificent in her simple but elegant dinner gown entered with a cheerful smile for the girls.

“Well, well! Where are the seasoned ocean travelers?” said she in a quizzing tone.

“Lost! Went down off Sandy Hook!” retorted Eleanor.

“Who are these shadows in their place?” continued Mrs. Courtney, teasingly.

“Never mind who we are,” was Polly’s laughing rejoinder, “but tell us this much: where is Elizabeth, and what is she doing?”

“That I cannot say, my dears, till after Mr. Dalken comes from his daughter’s room. I left him just now about to visit her, then I came in here to see you. I understand she wishes to die without delay.”

This seemed to tickle Polly and Eleanor greatly. They actually exchanged delighted glances, and Eleanor said: “Serves her right.”

“Oh, come,” returned Mrs. Courtney, “don’t say that. The poor child has never had any real example of what is right and good, so how can one expect of her what we do of girls like you and Polly?”

“Well,” said Polly, swinging her feet out of bed, “I believe I am able to sit up and enjoy this visit. The sea must be calming down considerably from the smooth manner in which the yacht is moving.”

But Polly spoke too soon. The moment she tried to stand upon her feet she swayed uncertainly and her head spun around like a top. Mrs. Courtney sprang over and caught her arm and steadied her till she got back to bed. Eleanor giggled unmercifully.

“Better stay put, Poll, till morning. Then we’ll practice before we show off.”

All that night the waves which had caused the pitching and rolling of the vessel kept up a heavy under-swell that made the yacht shudder and tremble uncertainly. At times it seemed as if the great gaping rollers wished to gulp the small craft in one swallow. But inside the comfortable rooms of the yacht, the un comfortable passengers waited patiently for the heavy seas to quiet down again.

After leaving his daughter’s room, Mr. Dalken went forward to find the First Mate who had said he had graduated from a medical college out west. Having found the man, Mr. Dalken called him by his title of doctor.

“I have a plan to suggest, Dr. Braxton, which ought to cure all our seasick passengers. I want you to visit each one in a professional way and diagnose their conditions. Do not find any one suffering from sea sickness, but find some light cause for their indisposition and be sure and tell them so. I have an idea that the test of changing their minds about the cause of their being in bed will change their physical conditions, too. Will you do this for me? Take your medicine chest and leave each one some melted licorice in water. Tell them to take a tablespoonful of this wonderful tonic every hour – then we’ll see.”

“Why, Mr. Dalken, you would not have me tell these poor people that they are not ill with sea sickness, would you? It would be unkind of us to do that,” objected the poor young man.

“Now listen, my good friend. I’ve heard said, over and over again, that seasickness is mostly due to fear and concern over one’s having it. The pneumogastric nerve acts with the mental condition of the patient – we all know that. And this nerve, it is claimed, is directly affected in a manner to make the ill one think he cannot move, or get up, or eat. I want to cure my friends in a hurry, and I want you to help me cure them. That is real kindness – not unkindness.”

The interested young man asked what more would be required of him, and Mr. Dalken explained. In a short time thereafter, Dr. Braxton called upon his first patient. It happened to be Mr. Fabian.