little swing-lamp alight in my cabin. I thought, as I looked at it
before shutting my eyes, that I was so tired of darkness, and troubled by
darkness, that I could have gone to sleep best in the midst of a million
of flaming gas-lights. That was the last thought I had before I went
off, except the prevailing thought that I should not be able to get to
sleep at all.

I dreamed that I was back at Penrith again, and was trying to get round
the church, which had altered its shape very much since I last saw it,
and was cloven all down the middle of the steeple in a most singular
manner. Why I wanted to get round the church I don't know; but I was as
anxious to do it as if my life depended on it. Indeed, I believe it did
in the dream. For all that, I could not get round the church. I was
still trying, when I came against it with a violent shock, and was flung
out of my cot against the ship's side. Shrieks and a terrific outcry
struck me far harder than the bruising timbers, and amidst sounds of
grinding and crashing, and a heavy rushing and breaking of water--sounds
I understood too well--I made my way on deck. It was not an easy thing
to do, for the ship heeled over frightfully, and was beating in a furious
manner.

I could not see the men as I went forward, but I could hear that they
were hauling in sail, in disorder. I had my trumpet in my hand, and,
after directing and encouraging them in this till it was done, I hailed
first John Steadiman, and then my second mate, Mr. William Rames. Both
answered clearly and steadily. Now, I had practised them and all my
crew, as I have ever made it a custom to practise all who sail with me,
to take certain stations and wait my orders, in case of any unexpected
crisis. When my voice was heard hailing, and their voices were heard
answering, I was aware, through all the noises of the ship and sea, and