"You can put out the other one, when you're ready," said he as he crept into his bunk.
Following the example of his associates, Percy draped his clothing over his soap-box and the lower end of his bunk, then blew out the lamp and turned in, barking his shins as he did so. He found his couch anything but comfortable. A single blanket between one's body and a board does not make the board much softer. Neither is a tightly rolled sweater an exact equivalent for a feather pillow. Further, the comforter over him was none too warm, as two windows, opened for ventilation, allowed the cool ocean breeze to circulate freely through the cabin. They also admitted numerous mosquitoes, which sung and stung industriously.
The hours of darkness dragged on miserably. Percy dozed and woke, only to doze and wake again. An occasional creaking board or muttered exclamation told that, like himself, his mates were not finding their first night one of unalloyed comfort.
Bare feet struck the floor. A match scraped, and Percy saw Jim gazing at the alarm-clock.
"What time is it?" groaned Budge from above.
"Only ten minutes to twelve."
"Gee! I wish it was morning."
"Me too!" complained Stevens from the darkness aloft.
Percy echoed the wish, silently but fervently. And then in an instant all their discomfort was forgotten. Bursting through the open window, a sudden sound shattered the midnight stillness.
Spang!