There was a French sailor there to whom I explained my need."

"How?" I asked, for I do not share Ernest's opinion of his mastery of
the French language, but he ignored this.

"It was dark down there," he went on, "too dark for him to see that I
was in a private's uniform, so I put on a bit of side and he took me for
an officer."

"A French officer?"

"Very likely. Anyway he found me a beautiful cabin with a lovely couch
in it all covered with plush. You would have thought I should want
nothing but to be left to sleep; but no, I saw that the officer in the
next cabin had a candle, and there was no candle for me. Instantly my
worst instincts were aroused. I felt I was being put upon. I demanded a
candle. The sailor declared there wasn't one left."

"You're sure he understood what you were asking for?"

"Yes, I know that candle is boogy, thank you. I argued with him for ten
minutes and then turned in, grumbling. Queer, wasn't it?"

"Yes," I said.

I sat there for a while, thinking over Ernest's story, which had, it
seemed to me, something of the tract about it.

Later the midges began to attack us.