And so on, ad infinitum, till my senses reeled again. At length, being almost desperate, I rose, and was in the act of quitting the horrible cabin, when a man in uniform—merchant service—came in.
"Hallo!" he exclaimed, "what are you up to? Sleep-walking? Get back directly, d'ye hear? Smart now!"
He aimed a blow at my back, and literally ran me into the swinging cot which I had just vacated.
"Are ye mad?" he inquired, with a touch of the brogue of northern Ireland—a most amusing accent to my mind—which gave a comic turn to his most serious remarks.
I made no reply immediately, only by staring.
"Ah! the boy's off his head! D'ye hear me? Are ye deaf and mad?"
"No," I replied; "neither, I think."
"Ye think! Ye're not sure! Then bedad I think ye're mad. What made ye jump out o' bed, then, like a lunatic?"
"I was wondering where I was, and thinking of those queer letters. I am better now. I was confused when I woke up."
"Oh, that's better! Sure it was a miracle ye woke at all; we all thought ye dead as Kerry mutton. What's ailing ye?"