I felt weary, and stretched myself along
the deck between the casks and the ship's wall, and pillowed my head on
my coat. I slept, and my slumber was deep and long. My dreams were
full of pleasing imaginations--of nuggets of extraordinary size,
chiefly, and leagues of rich pasture land whitened by countless sheep,
all branded with the letter P. But after I had awakened and gathered
my wits together, I understood that I had lost all count of time, that
I should not know what o'clock it was, and whether it was day or night,
until I had got out. I was glad to find that the blackness was not so
intolerable as I had dreaded. I felt for the biscuits and bottles, and
ate and drank as appetite dictated. Nobody in all this while lifted
the hatch. No doubt the steward had plenty of stores for current use
in hand, and there might be no need to break out fresh provisions for
some weeks.

I had lain, according to my own computation, very nearly two days in
this black hole, when I felt a movement in the ship which immediately
upset my stomach. The vessel, I might suppose, was in the Channel; her
pitching grew heavier, the lazarette was right aft, and in no part of
the vessel saving the bows could her motion be more sensibly felt. I
was speedily overcome with nausea, and for many long hours lay
miserably ill, unable to eat or drink. At the expiration of this time
the sea ran more smoothly; at all events, the ship's motion grew
gentle; the feeling of sickness suddenly passed, leaving me, indeed,
rather weak, yet not so helpless but that I could sit up and drink from
a bottle of wine and water, and eat a dry ship's biscuit.

Whilst I was munching the tasteless piece of sea bread, sitting in the
intense blackness, pining for the fresh air and the sunshine, and
wondering how much longer I was to wait for Back's summons to emerge,
the hatch was raised. I shrank and held my breath, with my hand
grasping the biscuit poised midway to my mouth, as though I had been
withered by a blast of lightning. A faint sheen floated in the little
square. It was the dim lustre of distant lamplight, whence I guessed
it was night. The figure of a man cautiously dropped through the
hatchway, and by some means, and all very silently, he contrived to
readjust the hatch, shutting himself down as Back had shut me down.
The motion of the ship, as I have said, was gentle, the creaking noises
throughout the working fabric were dim and distant; indeed,