For a few moments he stared about in mystification; he was certainly ill,
and no doubt the forecastle was an hallucination. It was a strange
symptom, and the odd part of it was that everything was so distinct.
Even the smell. He stared harder, in the hope that his surroundings
would give place to the usual ones, and, leaning a little bit more on his
elbow, nearly rolled out of the bunk. Resolved to probe this mystery to
the bottom he lowered himself to the floor and felt distinctly the motion
of a ship at sea.
There was no doubt about it. He staggered to the door and, holding by
the side, looked on to the deck. The steamer was rolling in a fresh sea
and a sweet strong wind blew refreshingly into his face. Funnels,
bridge, and masts swung with a rhythmical motion; loose gear rattled, and
every now and then a distant tinkle sounded faintly from the steward's
pantry.
He stood bewildered, trying to piece together the events of the preceding
night, and to try and understand by what miracle he was back on board his
old ship the _Conqueror_. There was no doubt as to her identity. He
knew every inch of her, and any further confirmation that might be
required was fully supplied by the appearance of the long, lean figure of
Captain Hardy on the bridge.
Captain Nugent took his breath sharply and began to realize the
situation.
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