APTER XII

A FRIEND IN THE FORECASTLE

I slowly and regretfully opened my eyes, aroused perhaps by a
trampling of feet on the deck above, to find myself lying in an upper
bunk of the forecastle. I was partially covered by a ragged blanket,
but for a few moments remained unable to comprehend the situation. Yet
the vivid memory soon returned, stimulated no doubt by the continuous
aching of my body where Estada had so brutally kicked me with his
heavy boots. The first recollection of that assault brought with it a
dull anger, strangely commingled with a thought of Dorothy Fairfax,
and a sense of my own duty. The heavy rolling of the bark clearly
evidenced that we were already at sea, and bucking against a high
wind. Occasionally a monster wave broke over the cats-head, and struck
thunderingly on the deck above me, the whole vessel trembling to the
shock. Oilskins hung to the deck beams, swung here and there at
strange angles, while the single slush lantern dangled back and forth
like the pendulum of a clock.

It was a dark, dismal, smelly interior, amply large enough, but ill
ventilated, and inexpressibly dirty. Every stench under heaven seemed
to assail my nostrils, so compounded together, as to be separately
indistinguishable, although that of stale bilge water strongly
predominated. The only semblance of fresh air found entrance through
the small, square scuttle hole, attainable by means of a short ladder,
and staring up at this, I was able to perceive the light of day,
although so little penetrated below, the swaying slush light alone
served to illumine the place, and render its horrors visible. It was
day then, and we were well out at sea. I must have been lying
unconscious for several hours. In all probability, finding it
impossible to arouse me, the brutes had finally left me alone, to
either recover, or die, as fate willed. I rested back, feeling of the
numerous bruises on my body, and touching gingerly the dried blood
caked on my face. No very serious damage seemed to have been done, for
I could move without great pain, although every muscle and tendon
appeared to be strained and lacerated. My head had cleared also from
its earlier sensation of dullness, the brain actively taking up its
work. Clinching my teeth to keep back a groan, I succeeded in sitting
upright, my head touching the upper deck, as I undertook to survey my
surroundings. They were gloomy and dismal enough. The forecastle, in
true Dutch style