Goa and the Blue Mountains; or, Six months of sick leave

· 1890

What a glad moment it is, to be sure, when the sick and seedy, the tired and testy invalid from pestiferous Scinde or pestilential Guzerat, “leaves all behind him” and scrambles over the sides of his Pattimar. Ah! we forget. The gondola and barque are household words in your English ears, the budgerow is beginning to own an old familiar sound, but you are right—the “Pattimar” requires a definition. Will you be satisfied with a pure landsman’s description of the article in question. We have lost our edition of “The Ship,” and to own humbling truth, though we have spent many a weary month on the world of waters, we never could master the intricacies of blocks and braces, skylights and deadlig…

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