All I know is that about a hundred years after we had passed the Isle of Man I became suddenly awake to the consciousness that something tremendous had happened. Had we struck in mid-ocean? had the masts above us gone by the board? were we sinking? or what?
On careful reflection I decided we were doing neither, and that the cause of my agitation was that the last wave but one had gone past the ship without breaking over her. And out of the next dozen waves we scrambled over I counted at least five which let us off in a similar manner!
Oh, the rapture of the discovery! I closed my eyes again lest by any chance it should turn out to be a dream.
The next thing I was conscious of was a rough hand on my shoulder and a voice shouting, “Now then, mister, wake up; all ashore except you. Can’t stay on board all day!”
I rubbed my eyes and bounded to my feet.
The Royal Duke was at a standstill in calm water, and the luggage-crane was busy at work overhead.
“Are we there?” I gasped.
“All except you,” said the sailor.
“How long have we been in?”
“Best part of an hour. Got any luggage, mister?”