It sometimes happened that the naval officers belonging to the ship-of-war stationed at Beyrout, took up their temporary residence with some friend on shore, being always welcome guests at the houses of the inhabitants. It was in this way that I first came to cultivate an acquaintance with the captain of Her Majesty’s steamer, “Hecate,” so that we were much thrown together. On one occasion, whilst he was a guest at our house, he proposed that I should accompany him on a pleasure cruise as far as Malta; a proposition I gladly acceded to, more particularly as the Emir Beschir, with his family and a relation of my own, were at that time residing on the island. I had long had a desire to see Malta, for many had described it to me as a species of little world, where one might sit down in a _café_ and study the characters of every European nation.
The alarm and grief of my relations on learning my determination was only to be equalled by the envious jeerings of my companions, who, whilst they pretended to pity my infatuation, would, I feel persuaded, have parted with every para in their possession for a portion of my good luck.
The steamer was to sail at the end of the week; and I was so busy making preparations, packing and taking leave, that I really had not a moment’s leisure for calm meditation,—and I am very glad I had not, for the chances are, that this, in conjunction with some of the melancholy forebodings of my friends, would have unnerved me for the trip. Seeing, however, that I was determined on starting, my neighbours changed their annoying prognostications into good acts, which acts consisted in inundating me with as many presents of sweetmeats, biscuits, etc., as would have kept me during a twelvemonths’ passage round the world. I selected some of the best of them for the officers’ mess, and at last the word ready being given, got my luggage together and embarked; the dispatches being received on board, and the “Hecate” soon after getting up her steam, we proceeded on our voyage to Malta accompanied by the prayers and blessings of a multitude of friends and relations assembled at Ras-Beyrout to witness our departure.
The day after we had sailed, I awoke at early dawn and crept up upon deck as best I could. The motion of the vessel was so strange and violent, that I reeled and staggered like a tipsy man, and felt confused, miserable, weak and sick. The horrible sensations I experienced on first awaking that morning cannot be easily erased from my mind. I was awoke by a singular and deafening noise, which seemed to proceed from directly overhead, which, as I afterwards discovered, was occasioned by the daily process of holy-stoning the decks. I managed to reach the main-deck just in time to be handed to the larboard gangway by the officer of the watch, who there left me alone in my misery with my head hanging over the bulwarks—a wretched victim to sea-sickness.