; he kept on scolding him in a gruff voice for not getting
up to dig out the stowaway, who by some singular arrangement was deep
down in the hold below the packages of cargo, and at the same time
standing at the foot of the bed with a handkerchief tied round his head,
looking wistfully at him, as if appealing to him to come and use the
caddy-spoon, and yet the captain would not get up.

It was a terrible trouble to Mark, for his reason told him that his
father's conduct in sitting upon him was absurd and bad for his chest,
and yet all the while he felt that his father must know best.

But then there was the little brittle caddy-spoon. He wanted to think
it was correct; but his reason told him it was absurd to attempt to dig
up a man with such a pitiful tool. If his father would only have got
off his chest and reasoned with him he would not have cared; but here he
was, a big heavy man, squatted just upon the top button of his
waistcoat, his legs drawn up, his knees at his chin, and his face
staring right into Mark's.

It was no wonder that the lad felt in a perspiration, and was ready to
reproach his mother for not assisting him in what was minute by minute
growing a more painful position; but Mrs Strong did not stir; the
captain kept up in constant repetition his scolding apostrophe, and the
stowaway looked more dismal than ever.

Mark tried to change his position a little so as to get ease, for the
heels of the captain's boots were very hard, but to move was impossible,
try how he would. He wanted to speak, but the words would not come; the
oppression on his chest grew more terrible; and at last, unable to bear
it any longer, he took hold of his father's thick, short, curly whiskers
with both hands as he tried to thrust him away.

For response the captain uttered a low deep remonstrant growl, and Mark
awoke, to find himself on his back holding Bruff's coat in his hands,
and the dog protesting, for he found Mark's chest a comfortable place.
Jack had agreed with him, and the pair were cuddled up together in a
sort of knot which rolled off on to the sand as the lad threw himself
upon his side.

Mark lay panting and hot for some time, and then once more oblivion came
over him, this time with no painful nightmare full of absurdities, but a
deep heavy dreamless sleep, from which he started up in horror with that
appalling roar ringing in his ears and dying away in the distance.

This was no delusion, for Bruff was