“It ain’t a bad swap for you to make, my son. We keep this for passengers because it is so big, and don’t usually count on givin’ it up to one of the crew; but it seems necessary in this case. You needn’t try to turn out early in the mornin’; I shan’t have a regular meal served till the repairs are made, so lay in bed as long as you please.”
Then the captain closed the door, locking it so gently that the turning of the key could not be heard, and Ned undressed himself again in a perfect maze of bewilderment.
The captain’s excessive kindness caused wonderment not unmixed with fear, for he remembered what Mr. Stout had said the day previous when the gentleman was so affable.
“There’s no need for me to fuss about it,” he said after trying in vain to fancy some good reason for this almost affectionate manner. “Of course he don’t want me to do anything for him, else he’d asked with his fist. Perhaps he’s been drinkin’ too much, an’ I’d better turn out the same time as usual.”
This last supposition seemed the most reasonable, and, believing he had hit upon the true cause for the change of demeanor, he devoted his entire attention to sleep.
At what time Ned awakened next morning he was unable to say; but it seemed quite late when he opened his eyes, and jumping quickly from the berth, began to dress hurriedly as he muttered to himself:
“I reckon I shall have to walk mighty straight this morning, for the captain will be crosser than a bear.”
After making a hurried toilet he attempted to go into the saloon, and, to his great surprise, found the door was locked.
It did not seem possible at first that such could be the case; but after trying in vain for several moments to open it, he was forced to admit he was a prisoner.
“Some one has turned the key, not knowing I was in here,” he thought, and then began to pound on the door in order to attract attention.