Jack then divided the money in the dark, and also gave Gascoigne a pistol.
“Now then, shall we knock for admittance?—Let’s first walk through the village, and see if there’s anything like an inn. Those yelping curs will soon be at our heels; they come nearer and nearer every time. There’s a cart, and it’s full of straw—suppose we go to bed till to-morrow morning—we shall be warm, at all events.”
“Yes,” replied Gascoigne, “and sleep much better than in any of the cottages. I have been in Sicily before, and you have no idea how the fleas bite.”
Our two midshipmen climbed up into the cart, nestled themselves into the straw, or rather Indian corn-leaves, and were soon fast asleep. As they had not slept for two nights, it is not to be wondered at that they slept soundly—so soundly, indeed, that about two hours after they had got into their comfortable bed, the peasant, who had brought to the village some casks of wine to be shipped and taken down the coast in a felucca, yoked his bullocks, and not being aware of his freight, drove off without, in any way, disturbing their repose, although the roads in Sicily are not yet macadamised.
The jolting of the roads rather increased than disturbed the sleep of our adventurers; and, although there were some rude shocks, it only had the effect of making them fancy in their dreams that they were again in the boat, and that she was still dashing against the rocks. In about two hours, the cart arrived at its destination—the peasant unyoked his bullocks and led them away. The same cause will often produce contrary effects: the stopping of the motion of the cart disturbed the rest of our two midshipmen; they turned round in the straw, yawned, spread out their arms, and then awoke. Gascoigne, who felt considerable pain in his shoulder, was the first to recall his scattered senses.
“Easy,” cried he, as he sat up and shook off the corn-leaves.
“Port it is,” said Jack, half dreaming.
“Come, Easy, you are not on board now. Rouse and bitt.”
Jack then sat up and looked at Gascoigne. The forage in the cart was so high round them that they could not see above it; they rubbed their eyes, yawned, and looked at each other.
“Have you any faith in dreams,” said Jack to Gascoigne, “because I had a very queer one last night.”