This lasted for about an hour, and then, as the boat-like bed made one of its slow, steady glides, down as it were into the depths of the sea, it went down and down, lower and lower, till all was black and solemn and still, and it was as if there was a restful end of all trouble, till the stern struck with a tremendous thud upon a rock, and a hollow voice exclaimed,—
“Now, old chap! Six o’clock! Ready for your bath?”
Chapter Six.
A Morning Bath.
“Yes! Come in. Thank you. Eh? I’ll open the door. And—Don’t knock so hard.”
Confused and puzzled, Max started out of his deep sleep, with his head aching, and the bewilderment increasing as he tried to make out where he was, the memory of the past two days’ events having left him.
“Don’t hurry yourself. It’s all right. Like to have another nap?” came in bantering tones.
“I’ll get up and dress as quickly as I can,” cried Max, as he now realised his position. “But—but you said something about showing me the bath.”