I lay as flat as I could, but the indisposition
persisted; in fact, it increased materially.
The manner in which
my pajamas, limp and pendent from that hook, swayed and swung back
and forth became extremely distasteful to me; and if by mental
treatment I could have removed them from there I should assuredly
have done so. But that was impossible.
Along toward evening I began to think of food. I thought of it
not from its gastronomic aspect, but rather in the capacity of
ballast. I did not so much desire the taste of it as the feel of
it. So I summoned Lubly - he, at least, did not smile at me in
that patronizing, significant way - and ordered a dinner that
included nearly everything on the dinner card except Lubly's thumb.
The dinner was brought to me in relays and I ate it - ate it all!
This step I know now was ill-advised. It is true that for a short
time I felt as I imagine a python in a zoo feels when he is full
of guinea-pigs - sort of gorged, you know, and sluggish, and only
tolerably uncomfortable.
Then ensued the frightful denouement. It ensued almost without
warning. At the time I felt absolutely positive that I was seasick.
I would have sworn to it. If somebody had put a Bible on my chest
and held it there I would cheerfully have laid my right hand on
it and taken a solemn oath that I was seasick.
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