Tom was somewhat astonished at this answer.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “I don’t like to suppose that you were asleep, but it did look like it.”
“Oh, no, sir,” answered Billy. “I never go to sleep if I can help it, at all events on duty. It is a dark night, although some time ago I know the moon was shining very brightly.”
“You must be joking,” said Tom; “why the moon is shining as brightly as ever I saw it in my life.”
“On my word, I cannot see that or any thing else,” answered Billy. “It seems to me that I have not been ten minutes on deck.”
Just then it struck seven bells of the first watch. Again poor Billy rubbed his eyes.
“I’m very sorry, but if I’ve been asleep I didn’t know it,” he said, putting out his hands instinctively before him. “Do you know, I’m afraid I’m blind.”
“I very much fear that you are,” said Tom. “I’ll send you below and you’d better turn in and have the doctor to see you in the morning; maybe that your eyes are only a little dazzled just now, and you will be all to rights by that time.”
Tom called another midshipman and directed him to help Billy into his hammock and let him know how he was.
From the way poor Billy walked, it was very evident that he could not see an inch before his nose, although, when he had once got his feet on the after hatchway ladder, he easily made his way to his hammock. He felt about, however, where to place his clothes, and required some assistance in turning in. When there, he heaved a deep sigh. His messmates heard him murmur, “Oh, dear me! am I going to be blind all my life?”