“Never did a victim put on a flame-coloured garment, the emblem of fate, and set out on the march of death, with a heavier heart, than did I put on my pilot-coat that morning to join my friends.

“My last hope deserted me as I saw the little vessel lying beside the quay; for I continued to trust that in getting out from the dock some accident or mischance might occur to spoil our sport.  But no; there she lay, rolling and pitching in such a way that, even at anchor, they could not stand on the deck without holding.  Amid the torrent of compliments for the perfection of all my arrangements, and innumerable sweet things on my taste in the decoration and fitting up of my cabin, I scarcely felt myself afloat for some minutes, and we got under weigh amid a noise and uproar that absolutely prevented the possibility of thought.

“Hitherto our destination had not been mentioned, and as all the party appealed to Lady Agnes, I could not be less gallant, and joined them in their request.

“‘Well then, what do you think of Lambay?’ said she, looking at the same moment towards the skipper.

“‘We can make it, my lady,’ said the man, ’but we’ll have a roughish sea of it, for there’s a strong point of westward in the wind.’

“‘Then don’t think of it,’ said I.  ’We have come out for pleasure, not to make our friends sick, or terrify them.  It does very well for us men.’

“’There you are, Dirk, with your insolent sneers about women’s nerves and female cowardice.  Now, nothing but Lambay will content me—­what say you, ladies?’

“A general reply of approval met this speech, and it was carried by acclamation.

“‘Lambay then be it,’ said I, with the voice of a man, who, entreating to be shot, is informed that he cannot be afforded that pleasure, as his sentence is to be hanged.  But I must hasten over these painful recollections.  We dropped down the river, and soon left the light-house and its long pier behind us, the mast bending like a whip, and the sea boiling like barm over the lee gunwale.  Still the spirit of our party only rose the lighter, and nothing but eulogies upon the men and sailing of the craft resounded on all sides; the din and buz of the conversation went on only more loudly and less restrictedly than if the party had been on shore, and all, even myself, seemed happy, for up to this moment I had not been sea-sick, yet certain pleasant sensations, that alternately evinced themselves in my stomach and my head, warned me of what was in store for me.  The word was now given to tack; I was in the act of essaying a soft speech to Lady Agnes, when the confounded cry of ’ready about, starboard there, let go sheets and tacks, stand by, hawl.’  The vessel plunged head-foremost into the boiling sea, which hissed on either bow; the heavy boom swung over, carrying my hat along with it—­and almost my head too.  The rest of the party, possibly better informed than myself,