Chapter Forty Two.
We were in the middle of the wide Atlantic, hundreds of miles from any land. Let this fact be remembered.
One morning I came upon deck rather later than usual. Most generally I was awakened out of my sleep, and at a very early hour, by the thundering voice of the mate, and usually either with an oath or a rough shaking—the latter always when the ruffian was near enough to administer it.
On this particular morning, for what reason I could not divine, I was permitted to lie still undisturbed; and taking advantage of the indulgence, and, indeed, overpowered by sleep, of which I never had enough, I lay still and slept on.
It was considerably after daylight when I awoke. The sun was shining down into the forecastle and lit up that little wooden chamber—which was at most times as dark as a dungeon—with unusual brilliancy; and I could see distinctly everything and every person in the place. Of the latter there were only two or three. The bright light gushing into my eyes told me that I had overslept myself, and that it was far past the hour at which I should have been on deck and at work. For this reason the first idea in my mind was, that I was in for a rope’s-ending from the mate, which I might expect as soon as I made my appearance on the quarter-deck.
It was no use, however, to think of “dodging” it. I should be certain to get it, sooner or later, and the sooner the better, thought I, since then the dread of it would be off my mind, and the thing would be over.
Indulging in this view of the case, I slipped on my jacket and shoes (these were the only portions of my dress I ever took off), and nerving myself for the expected punishment, I sprawled up the ladder, and, emerging, through the forecastle-hatch, stood upon deck.
On reaching the deck I had an impression that something was wrong in the vessel; indeed, I had already some such impression before coming up. There were only two men below in the forecastle—foreigners they were—and they were conversing in their own language, which I did not understand; but there was something in the expression of their faces that struck me forcibly. Both looked gloomy, though excited, and their gesticulations, as they talked with each other, led me to believe that they were discussing some serious event that had either happened, or was about to happen, to the Pandora.
“Perhaps,” thought I, catching hope with the thought, “perhaps there is a sail in sight—a man-of-war with a British flag? perhaps the slaver is being chased?”
I would have endeavoured to communicate with the men, and ask them what had happened, but they chanced to be a brace of morose fellows who had always shown ill-will towards me, and I refrained from putting any questions to them. I should find out by going on deck; and, my spirits somewhat lightened by the conjecture I had formed, I sprang more cheerfully up the steps.