It was the last impression he had of the incident, as the prow of the schooner struck his boat and clove it in twain.  He jumped instinctively, but his head received a glancing blow, and he did not remember anything more until he awoke in a very dark and close place.  His head ached abominably, and when he strove to raise a hand to it he found that he could not do so.  He thought at first that it was due to weakness, a sort of temporary paralysis, coming from the blow that he dimly remembered, but he realized presently that his hands were bound, tied tightly to his sides.

He moved his body a little, and it struck against wood on either side.  His feet also were bound, and he became conscious of a swaying motion.  He was in a ship’s bunk and he was a prisoner of somebody.  He was filled with a fierce and consuming rage.  He had no doubt that he was on the schooner that had run him down, nor did he doubt either that he had been run down purposely.  Then he lay still and by long staring was able to make out a low swaying roof above him and very narrow walls.  It was a strait, confined place, and it was certainly deep down in the schooner’s hold.  A feeling of horrible despair seized him.  The darkness, his aching head, and his bound hands and feet filled him with the worst forebodings.  Nor did he have any way of estimating time.  He might have been lying in the bunk at least a week, and he might now be far out at sea.

In misfortune, the intelligent and imaginative suffer most because they see and feel everything, and also foresee further misfortunes to come.  Robert’s present position brought to him in a glittering train all that he had lost.  Having a keen social sense his life in New York had been one of continuing charm.  Now the balls and receptions that he had attended at great houses came back to him, even more brilliant and vivid than their original colors had been.  He remembered the many beautiful women he had seen, in their dresses of silk or satin, with their rosy faces and powdered hair, and the great merchants and feudal landowners, and the British and American officers in their bright new uniforms, talking proudly of the honors they expected to win.

Then that splendid dream was gone, vanishing like a mist before a wind, and he was back in the swaying darkness of the bunk, hands and feet bound, and head aching.  All things are relative.  He felt now if only the cruel cords were taken off his wrists and ankles he could be happy.  Then he would be able to sit up, move his limbs, and his head would stop aching.  He called all the powers of his will to his aid.  Since he could not move he would not cause himself any increase of pain by striving to do so.  He commanded his body to lie still and compose itself and it obeyed.  In a little while his head ceased to ache so fiercely, and the cords did not bite so deep.