s
recommended to her to go to rest, he himself desired to be conducted to
his berth.

The captain readily showed him a hammock, in the after-cabin, into which
he threw himself, to seek that repose which the exercise and agitation
of the preceding day, as well as the lateness of the hour, made him
now feel desirable. Sleep, deep and heavy, sunk down on him in a few
minutes, but it did not endure long. In his sleep he was disturbed by
female cries; and at length, as he thought, distinctly heard the voice
of Alice Bridgenorth call on his name.

He awoke, and starting up to quit his bed, became sensible, from the
motion of the vessel, and the swinging of the hammock, that his dream
had deceived him. He was still startled by its extreme vivacity and
liveliness. "Julian Peveril, help! Julian Peveril!" The sounds still
rung in his ears--the accents were those of Alice--and he could scarce
persuade himself that his imagination had deceived him. Could she be in
the same vessel? The thought was not altogether inconsistent with her
father's character, and the intrigues in which he was engaged; but
then, if so, to what peril was she exposed, that she invoked his name so
loudly?

Determined to make instant inquiry, he jumped out of his hammock,
half-dressed as he was, and stumbling about the little cabin, which was
as dark as pitch, at length, with considerable difficulty, reached
the door. The door, however, he was altogether unable to open; and was
obliged to call loudly to the watch upon deck. The skipper, or captain,
as he was called, being the only person aboard who could speak English,
answered to the summons, and replied to Peveril's demand, what noise
that was?--that a boat was going off with the young woman--that she
whimpered a little as she left the vessel--and "dat vaas all."

His dream was thus fully explained. Fancy had caught up the inarticulate
and vehement cries with which Fenella was wont to express resistance or
displeasure--had coined them into language, and given them the accents
of Alice Bridgenorth. Our imagination plays wilder tricks with us almost
every night.

The captain now undid the door, and appeared with a lantern; without the
aid of which Peveril could scarce have regained his couch, where he
now slumbered secure and sound, until day was far advanced, and the
invitation of the captain called him up to breakfast.

CHAPTER XX

Now, what is this that haunts me like my shadow,