er, the boat, the scene--and
wondered where a man was going who rode slowly along a mountain-path
above them, within hail, following him, in imagination, to his home,
in a sort of dreamy contentment. After a second can he began to
grow drowsy, and, just aware that Owen said the breeze was still
freshening, retired to the soft mattress spread for him under the
half-deck, and replacing his cocked-hat by a red nightcap, slept till
morning.

It was broad daylight when he woke, conscious that for an hour or two
past he had been sleeping most uneasily. There was a violent swinging
motion, a rushing of wind and of water, that confused him extremely;
and, forgetting where he was, he nearly fractured his skull by rising
suddenly into a sitting posture. Steadying himself on his hands, in
the posture of the Dying Gladiator, he slewed himself round on the
pivot of his stern, and protruded his powdered head, like an old
beaver, out of his hole. Owen and Francisco were sitting in a pool
of water, trying to shelter themselves under the weather-side of the
boat--dripping wet, and breakfasting on cold potatoes and fragments
of meat left from last night's meal. My grandfather did not like the
appearance of things at all. Rent in twain by horrible qualms, he
inquired feebly of Owen if they were near Cadiz? Frank, in reply,
shook his head, and said they were at anchor. Then my grandfather,
making a vigorous effort, emerged completely from his place of repose,
and, rising to his feet, looked over the gunwale. The scene he beheld
was in dreary contrast to that of the evening before. Ridges of white
foam were all around--ahead was a long low line of sandy coast,
terminating in a point of rock whereon stood a lighthouse; and to
leeward the bay was enclosed by steep hills. Over the low coast-line
the wind blew with steady violence. A bright sun rather increased
the dreariness of the prospect, which was suddenly closed to my
grandfather by a shower of spray, that blinded him, and drenched him
to the skin, converting his jack-boots into buckets. The wind had
increased to a gale during the night, and they had been forced to take
precarious shelter in the harbour of Tarifa. The Major did not venture
on a second peep, but sat, dismally wet and sea-sick, the whole
morning, trying to shelter himself as he best could. Once, a man came
down to the beach, and gesticulated like a scaramouch, screaming also
at the same time; but what his gestures and scre