But before he knew it he was staggering like one intoxicated, and his head began to feel bad, partly, no doubt, on account of the sleeping potion which he had unconsciously taken.
At this moment the steward entered the cabin. “Hello, young man! Have you got up?” he asked.
“Where am I?” asked Dodger, looking at him with a dazed expression.
“Where are you? You’re on the good ship Columbia, to be sure?”
“Are we out to sea?”
“Of course you are.”
“How far from land?”
“Well, about fifty miles, more or less, I should judge.”
“How long have I been here?”
“It seems to me you have a poor memory. You came on board last evening.”