The doctor shook him first and then punched him. Then he shook him again
and gave him little scientific slaps, until at length Harry Thomson, in a
far-away voice, said that he was all right.

"Well, I'm glad I'm not alone," said the doctor, selfishly. "_Harry!
Harry! Wake up!_"

"All ri'!" said the sleeper; "I'm all ri'!"

The doctor shook him again, and then rolled him backward and forward in
his bunk. Under this gentle treatment the solicitor's faculties were
somewhat brightened, and, half opening his eyes, he punched viciously at
the disturber of his peace, until threatening voices from the gloom
promised to murder both of them.

"Where are we?" demanded the doctor, of a deep voice from the other side
of the forecastle which had been particularly threatening.

"Barque _Stella,_ o' course," was the reply. "Where'd you think you
was?"

The doctor gripped the edge of his friend's bunk and tried to think;
then, a feeling of nausea overcoming all others, he clambered hurriedly
up the forecastle ladder and lurched to the side of the vessel.

He leaned there for some time without moving, a light breeze cooling his
fevered brow, and a small schooner some little distance from them playing
seesaw, as he closed his eyes to the heaving blue sea. Land was
conspicuous by its absence, and with a groan he turned and looked about
him--at the white scrubbed deck, the snowy canvas towering aloft on