I had already made a couple of interesting discoveries. I was in pyjamas, and I was sitting up in my bunk in my own cabin, with a broad shaft of sunlight streaming in on me through the open porthole.
"Hullo!" I said, looking round. "How long have I been here?"
Ross consulted his watch. "It's twelve o'clock now," he replied, "all but a few minutes. You have been wallowing in exactly fifteen hours of sweet and refreshing slumber." He sat down on the edge of my bunk and placed his fingers on my pulse. "How do you feel now?" he asked.
I considered the problem with some care. "I've got a rotten head," I said, "and I feel devilish hungry."
He let go my wrist and rose to his feet.
"Let's have a look at your nut," he remarked.
He bent down over me and very carefully parted the hair at the back of my head.
"You'll do," he announced, after a brief inspection. "You've had a nasty bump of some kind, but there's no real damage done. That's the best of these thick skulls!"
In view of his medical services I allowed the insult to pass.
"Tell me, Ross," I said, "what happened when I got on board? I remember crawling up the gangway, but after that everything's a complete blank."