And just then the men in the forecastle finished a chorus and began to cheer.
“I shall wake up from this dream directly,” I remember thinking, but I did not, for all was black, and I was in the deepest sleep that I ever had in my long life.
Chapter Thirty One.
Hot! So hot that I could hardly breathe, and so dark that I could not see across the cabin. My head ached, and I was terribly sleepy, with a heavy, unsatisfied drowsiness, which kept me from stirring, though I longed to get out of my cot and go and open the window, and at the same time have a good drink from the water-bottle.
I was lying on my brick, and there was the impression upon me that I had been having bad dreams, during the passing of which I had been in great trouble of some kind, but what that trouble was I could not tell; and as soon as I tried to think, my brain felt as if it was hot and dry, and rolling slowly from side to side of my skull.
I was very uncomfortable and moved a little, but it made my head throb so that I was glad to lie still again and wait till the throbbing grew less violent.
“It all comes of sleeping in a cabin in these hot latitudes with the window closed. Mr Frewen ought to know better,” I thought, “being a doctor. I’ll tell him of it as soon as he wakes.”
This is how I mused, thinking all the time how foolish I was not to get up and open the window, but still feeling no more ready to cool the stifling air of the cabin.