CHAPTER VIII
DAVE MEETS THE FATE OF THE SEA
It was almost nine o'clock in the morning when Darrin awoke. He at once realized how refreshed he was. His had been a close call, but fortunate accident and his own strong body had pulled him through.
There on the floor were his rubber boots, on the locker his underclothing, while on knobs against the cabin wall hung the garments that comprised his uniform.
Rising, Dave was delighted to find himself still strong. Without ado he drew off and tossed across the berth the coarse nightgown that some one had put on him. Then he began to dress.
Everything was dry—indeed, laundered. These new Danes of the sea knew how to be hospitable. So Darrin dressed, and, when he rang for hot water, a steward appeared with the ship's barber, who aided in Darrin's toilet. Before this had been finished Dr. Valpak thrust his head in to inquire:
"Only as a personage from the pages of 'Arabian Nights,' Doctor," Darrin laughed. "Come in."
Not only did the doctor come in, but soon, also, a waiter, who set up a small table made fast to the wall, and on it spread such a breakfast as made Dave's heart rejoice.
Wind and sea had abated much. The broad "Rigsdak" now rode the water with comparatively little roll. Dave sat down to enjoy his breakfast, and Dr. Valpak soon withdrew.