I was meditating gloomily on this subject, when I heard a shrill whistle, and then a series of awful noises, at the sound of which every man below left whatever he was at, and rushed on deck.  I had read too many accounts of shipwrecks not to know that the deck is the place to make for, so I bolted with the rest, and caught sight of Alister flying in the same direction as we were.  When we got up I looked about me as well as I could, but I saw no rocks or vessels in collision with us.  The waves were not breaking over us, but four or five men standing on the bulwarks were pulling things like monstrous grubs out of a sort of trough, and chucking them with more or less accuracy at the heads of the sailors who gathered round.

“What is it, Alister?” I asked.

“It’s just the serving out of the hammocks that they sleep in,” Alister replied.  “I’m thinking we’ll not be entitled to them.”

“What’s that fellow yelling about?”

“He’s crying to them to respond to their names and numbers.  Whisht, man! till I hear his unchristian lingo and see if he cries on us.”

But in a few minutes the crowd had dispersed, and the hammock-servers with them, and Alister and I were left alone.  I felt foolish, and I suppose looked so, for Alister burst out laughing and said—­“Hech, laddie! it’s a small matter.  We’ll find a corner to sleep in.  And let me tell ye I’ve tried getting into a hammock myself, and—­”

“Hi! you lads!”

In no small confusion at having been found idle and together, we started to salute the third mate, who pointed to a sailor behind him, and said—­“Follow Francis, and he’ll give you hammocks and blankets, and show you how to swing and stow them.”

We both exclaimed—­“Thank you, sir!” with such warmth that as he returned our renewed salutations he added—­“I hear good accounts of both of you.  Keep it up, and you’ll do.”

Alister’s sentence had been left unfinished, but I learnt the rest of it by experience.  We scrambled down after Francis till we seemed to be about the level where we had stowed away.  I did not feel any the better for the stuffiness of the air and an abominable smell of black beetles, but I stumbled along till we arrived in a very tiny little office where the purser sat surrounded by bags of ships’ biscuits (which they pleasantly call “bread” at sea) and with bins of sugar, coffee, &c., &c.  I dare say the stuffiness made him cross (as the nasty smells used to make us in Uncle Henry’s office), for he used a good deal of bad language, and seemed very unwilling to let us have the hammocks and blankets.  However, Francis got them and banged us well with them before giving them to us to carry.  They were just like the others—­canvas-coloured sausages wound about with tarred rope; and warning us to observe how they were fastened up, as we should have to put them away “ship-shape” the following morning, Francis helped us to unfasten and “swing” them in the forecastle.  There were hooks in the beams, so that part of the business was easy enough, but, when bedtime came, I found that getting into my hammock was not as easy as getting it ready to get into.