sickness, and a cabin "like the Black Hole of Calcutta." Her experiences were so unpleasant that she dubbed the vessel Ye Shippe of Hell. Nevertheless, as was her wont, she managed to see the ludicrous side. She writes:
"Our passengers were some fun. There was not a single man who could have been called a gentleman among the passengers, and only two ladies. They were Donna Maria Bita Tenario y Moscoso (a Portuguese marquise), travelling for her health with a maid-companion, and myself returning with my maid to England. There were two other ladies (so called) with children, each of them a little girl, and the girls were as troublesome as the monkey and the dog who were with them. They trod on our toes, rubbed their jammy fingers on our dresses, tore our leaves out of our books, screamed, wanted everything, and fought like the monkey and the dog. Their papas were quiet, worthy men. We had also on board a captain and mate whose ship had been burnt in Morocco with a full cargo on the eve of returning to England; a gentleman returning from Teneriffe (where he has spent twenty-five years) to England, his native land, whom everybody hoaxed and persuaded him almost that the moon was made of green cheese in England; a Jew who ate, drank, was sick, and then began to gorge again, laughed and talked and was sick with greatest good humour and unconcern; an intelligent and well-mannered young fellow, English born, but naturalized in Portugal, going out to the Consulate at Liverpool; and, lastly, a Russian gentleman, who looked like an old ball of worsted thrown under the grate. Nothing was talked
