Much to the amusement of Mr. Darcy, I am become acquainted with the ship’s Captain, a Captain Fanshawe, who—being a sensible man—favoured me with a tour of the King George at my particular request. The crew’s quarters appear to be most desperately crowded and comfortless in the extreme—they live toward the eyes of the ship, whereas the passenger cabins (of which there are six) are in the stern. Made of matchwood and with little light, I have avoided mine, but poor Georgiana, who does not get on well with the rolling of the ship, is abed as I write this, with her dutiful brother to comfort her in my absence. The salon—by far the most commodious section of the ship, with the only comfortable seats and daylight streaming through its window—is my chosen anchorage at present, and because so many passengers are occupied with being ill in their cabins, it is wonderfully quiet for those of us who are lucky enough to escape such a disagreeable indisposition.

We have been to sea now for four hours, and the crew suppose, due to an unfavourable wind, we may be yet a few hours more before we reach our destination. For my part, I confess that I wish the journey vastly longer, but you know how fond of the unfamiliar I am and how little I consider the discomforts of others out of concern for my own pleasure. The delay and my paper allow me to display my now-extensive knowledge of travelling at sea.

The packet-commander is an extraordinary fellow, an handsome, reading man, and dressed in uniform similar to the officers of the Royal Navy. I hope I do not do him a disservice by claiming that it appears to be his first-mate who does all of the work that is to be done, whilst the captain takes the glory (as I write this, I am filled with a sudden horror that you must immediately bethink a mistress of a certain house in Derbyshire who is similarly fortunate in allowing a superbly capable sister to superintend all, whilst this mistress falsely assumes all credit for the excellent standard of house-keeping). The rest of the crew, excepting the bo’sun, who is somewhat sullen, are quite kind and carry out their duties in a commendable manner. I suppose this is not surprising when one considers the improvement in their circumstances and safety now the war is over, although Mr. Darcy did tell me that they are paid less in peace-time, so these are the lucky men who can bless their fortune as yet having a situation at-sea.