CHAPTER IX
Of all that occurred after I became unconscious I am quite ignorant. From the moment of my closing my eyes until six o'clock next morning my mind is a perfect blank. All I remember is, that little by little I became aware of a strange oscillation. It was as if my bed were being tossed violently about, to the accompaniment of a noise like the groaning of a thousand tormented souls.
"It will go off if I lie still," I said to myself. But instead, every moment, it grew worse. At last, when I could bear it no longer, I opened my eyes and looked about me. What I saw was calculated to afford me considerable astonishment. I had imagined myself to be lying in the room whence I had escaped, what I supposed to be a few hours before. I was not there, however. The place in which I was lying was the cabin of a ship, and was some nine feet long by six in width. Opposite the bunk in which I lay, was the customary brass-bound port-hole, with a cushioned settee, or locker, below it. The door was at the foot of the bed; a wash-hand stand with a mirror above it stood against the bulkhead, there was a narrow strip of faded carpet upon the floor, and when I have noted these things I have furnished you with a detailed description of the cabin. What the name of the vessel was and how I had got there were questions I could not answer. One thing, however, was quite certain; whatever else she might be, the ship was not a good sea boat. She rolled abominably, and from the pounding noise on deck I gathered that she was taking aboard more seas than was altogether comfortable. With my head clanging like a ship's bell, I managed to scramble out of my bunk and approach the port-hole. Constantly blurred though the glass was by the waves that dashed against it, I was able to convince myself that there was no land in sight. All I had before me was a confused, tumbling mass of water, an expanse of cloud-covered sky, and once, when we rose upon a particularly heavy sea, the fleeting picture of a barque making extremely bad weather of it, three miles or so distant.
Turning from the dismal scene, I tried the door, to find, as I had expected, that it was locked. It was evident from this that though a decided change had come over my affairs, I was still a prisoner. The situation was both dispiriting and perplexing; my head, however, ached too much to allow me to worry over it for very long. I accordingly climbed back into my bunk and composed myself for sleep once more. Success must have crowned my efforts, for when I woke again, the comparative steadiness of the vessel convinced me that the weather had taken a turn for the better. From a ray of sunlight that danced in and out through the port-hole, it was plain that clouds, which had hitherto covered the sky, had disappeared, and that there were hopes of better weather. My headache had almost left me, and I felt that if I could procure something to eat I should be almost myself once more. On looking at my watch I found to my annoyance that it had stopped at five minutes to six, so that I was unable to tell what the hour was. Once more I climbed out of the bunk, and this time seated myself upon the settee.
I had not been there many minutes before the sound of voices reached my ears. The speakers were in the saloon, so I gathered, and one of the voices sounded strangely familiar to me. I tried to locate it, but for a time was unable to do so. Then in a flash it occurred to me, and I wondered that I had not recognised it before. It was the voice of Senor Sargasta, the Countess's father, or at any rate her reputed father.
"I am still in their clutches," I said to myself, with something that was very like despair, as I realised the meaning of this new discovery, "but how on earth did they get me aboard this boat, and what are they going to do with me now that they have got me here?"
The question was beyond me, however. I was compelled to leave it unanswered.
A few seconds later I heard the sound of footsteps approaching my cabin. Then the door was unlocked and opened, and the grey-haired, military-looking man, who had driven up with the Countess to the hotel in Paris, and who had been introduced to London society as her parent, entered the cabin. Behind him was the young Count Conrad, with the same supercilious smile upon his face.