guzzling. At last, however, his swimming head begged for a pillow, no
matter how hard, and in desperation he went below. He found the cabin
door on the hook, and the faded curtain of cretonne drawn across. There
was one comfort, at least: the wretch liked air. Max hoped the fellow
had gone to sleep, in which case there might be some chance of rest.
Gently he unhooked the door and fastened it again in the same manner. A
little light flittered through the thin curtain, enabling Max to grope
his way about the tiny stateroom, and he determined not to rouse his
companion by switching on the electricity.

It had occurred to him, on his way to the cabin, that he might find his
berth usurped by a prostrate form, as in the afternoon by a bag. But his
first peering glance through the dimness reassured him on this point.
The owner of the bag had taken the hint, and stowed himself in his own
bunk. Max could just make out a huddled shape under bedclothes which had
been drawn high for warmth. Then he knelt down to grope for the suitcase
which he had pushed far under his own berth. Seeking it in the
semi-darkness, a wave sent him sprawling. He heard from somewhere a
shrill crash of glass, a sudden babble of excited voices, and decided it
would not be worth while to undress unless the storm should abate. He
scrambled up, and thankfully flung himself, just as he was, on to his
bunk. In the wild confusion of squeaking, straining planks, the thump of
waves against the porthole, the demon-shrieks of infuriated wind, and
the shouts and running to and fro of sailors overhead, it seemed
impossible that any human being could sleep. Yet the creature overhead
was mercifully quiet; and suddenly slumber fell upon Max, shutting out
thought and sound. For a while he slept heavily; but by and by dreams
came and lifted the curtain of unconsciousness, stirring him to
restlessness. It seemed that he had lived through years since New York,
and that everything had long ago been decided for him, one way or the
other, though his dulled brain kept the secret. He knew only that he was
at Sidi-bel-Abbes--Sidi-bel-Abbes. How he had got there, and what he was
doing, he could not tell. It ought to be a town, but it was not. There
were no houses nor buildings of any kind in this strange Sidi-bel-Abbes.
He could see only waves of yellow sand, billowing and moving all around
him like sea waves; and it was sea as well as desert. Suddenly one of
the waves rolled away