It was a dark, dismal, smelly interior, amply large enough, but ill ventilated, and inexpressibly dirty.  Every stench under heaven seemed to assail my nostrils, so compounded together, as to be separately indistinguishable, although that of stale bilge water strongly predominated.  The only semblance of fresh air found entrance through the small, square scuttle hole, attainable by means of a short ladder, and staring up at this, I was able to perceive the light of day, although so little penetrated below, the swaying slush light alone served to illumine the place, and render its horrors visible.  It was day then, and we were well out at sea.  I must have been lying unconscious for several hours.  In all probability, finding it impossible to arouse me, the brutes had finally left me alone, to either recover, or die, as fate willed.  I rested back, feeling of the numerous bruises on my body, and touching gingerly the dried blood caked on my face.  No very serious damage seemed to have been done, for I could move without great pain, although every muscle and tendon appeared to be strained and lacerated.  My head had cleared also from its earlier sensation of dullness, the brain actively taking up its work.  Clinching my teeth to keep back a groan, I succeeded in sitting upright, my head touching the upper deck, as I undertook to survey my surroundings.  They were gloomy and dismal enough.  The forecastle, in true Dutch style, had been built directly into the bows, so that the bunks, arranged three tiers high, formed a complete half circle.  The single lantern, flickering and flaring as it swung constantly to the sharp pitching of the vessel, cast grotesque shadows, and failed entirely to penetrate the corners.  The deck below me was littered with chests, sea boots, and odds and ends of clothing, while farther aft considerable water had found entrance through the scuttle hole, and was slushing back and forth as the bark rolled.  About half the bunks seemed to be occupied, the figures of the sleeping men barely discernible, although their heavy breathing evidenced their presence, and added to the babel of sound.  Every bolt and beam creaked and groaned in the ceaseless struggle with the sea.

The bunk in which I had awakened was situated almost at the apex of the half circle, so that I had a clear view of the wider open space.  Those beneath me contained no occupants, nor, at first, could I distinguish any in the tier directly opposite.  Evidently the watch off duty preferred to seek their rest as far away as possible from those waves pounding against the bow.  However, as I sat there, staring about at this scene, and uncertain as to what my next move should be, there was a stir within the upper berth on my own level, and a moment later, an uplifted face appeared suddenly in the yellow flare of light.  It was manifestly an English face at first glance, rosy of cheek, with chestnut beard, and light, tousled hair.  A pair of humorous, gray eyes surveyed me silently, and then, apparently satisfied by the scrutiny, the owner sat up in the bunk, revealing powerful shoulders, and a round, bull neck.