Just then the clock at the bottom of the stairs began to strike, and I thought that it must be a dark morning and about four, but to my astonishment it struck eleven, and I felt sure that it must be wrong.
And all this while there was the restless pace up and down my father’s room, making the jug in the basin rattle faintly, and after turning over three or four times I made up my mind that it was impossible to sleep, so I would dress, and then go and wake Bigley and sit and talk.
I had just made up my mind to this, as it seemed to me, when Bigley stood in the doorway and said:
“Now, Sep, old fellow, wake up.”
I started up in bed and stared, for the room was flooded with sunshine, and I knew that I must have been sound asleep, while from across the passage came the regular pace of my father walking up and down, and the jug clattered in the basin.
“Has he been walking up and down all night?” I said sleepily.
“Oh, no!” said Bigley. “I have only just called him, and heard him get up. But make haste. It’s a splendid morning, and the sea’s like glass.”
“And the skin’s all off my heel,” I said; “and it’s as sore as sore, and so is one of my toes.”
“Sep!” shouted my father just then; “make haste down, and tell Ellen that we want the breakfast as early as possible.”
“Yes, father,” I said; but at the same moment Kicksey’s voice came up the stairs as she heard what he said, and it was to announce that breakfast would be ready in ten minutes’ time.