“Thou wilt be more at ease below, then,” observed Hildebrand. “Moreover, my pantler, by his presence at the hatchway here, invites us down to dinner.”
The pantler, or steward, whose appearance on the deck was thus considered introductory to dinner, was standing in the contiguous hatchway; but on the instant that he was sensible of having incurred Hildebrand’s attention, he receded from the aperture, and retired to the cabin. Thither he was quickly followed by Hildebrand and Don Rafaele, and, in a short time afterwards, by Master Halyard, who also was in the secret of his noonday visit to the after-hatchway.
Their meal was soon despatched. When they had brought it to a close, Master Halyard, rising from the table, announced it to be his intention to “turn-in,” as he conjectured that they would that night have little opportunity of taking their usual rest.
“I’faith, no!” answered Hildebrand. “And with thy good leave, Senhor,” he added, to Don Rafaele, “I will even commend me to an hour’s sleep myself.”
“Prithee do,” said Don Rafaele, with an appearance of solicitude. “Thou wilt be the better for ’t.”
“’Twould not be amiss for thee,” replied Hildebrand. “Afore midnight, we may, if this breeze continue, be all confusion.”
“Well, well, I will lay me down,” returned the young cavalier; “for though I be in no mind for sleep, my giddiness doth ill qualify me to sit up.”
With these words, he rose from the table, and turned round to his berth. Planting his feet on the locker, and holding on by the panel above, he easily raised himself to his berth, and scrambled on to the bed within. Hildebrand disposed himself in the berth opposite, and Master Halyard, to use his own phrase, “hove-to” in a hammock, in the steerage, without the cabin-door.
Although Don Rafaele had not retired to his berth with the intention of seeking repose, but had thrown himself down without undressing, he had not been long in a recumbent posture, reflecting on the various circumstances of his situation, before he was overtaken by sleep. It was, however, a restless slumber, broken by repeated starts, and was not calculated to refresh or invigorate him. Still he slept on; and an increased violence in the ship’s motion, and a variety of noises that prevailed on the deck above, with other adverse incidents, alike failed to awake him.
It was quite dark when he did awake. The ship was pitching a little; and this, with the darkness that prevailed, and the solemn silence, broken only by a solitary footfall overhead, pacing the quarter-deck, or an occasional creaking of the mainmast, depressed him severely. He was soon to have more serious cause for dejection. While he was musing what course he should pursue, and whether it would be better, as the night had now set in, to remain in his berth, or to take a turn on the deck, the silence that prevailed was suddenly interrupted by the clamour of several voices. Footsteps were then heard passing over the deck, and, after a brief pause, the rolling of a drum broke on his ear.