Perhaps it was the sudden realization that I was out upon the beloved sea that revived me; or perhaps it was merely that the stifling wrapper had been removed from my face, and I could breathe again in ease and comfort. I found too that my limbs were free, though still cruelly stiff. But with the discovery I sat up, for I had been lying down, and looked about me. Little enough could I make out, for it was dark in the cabin, if cabin it were, and only from one side came a faint blur of lesser darkness. I half wondered whether it were early morning or late evening, for the past seemed so far away that a day might easily have slipped over. Also I realized that during the day, supposing a day to have gone by, the wind had risen, for it had been serenely calm when I had left Sunset Towers. I rose, and treading cautiously for the ship was rolling and I was unsteady from my long dizziness and swooning, I made my way to the spot from where the dim light seemed to be coming. It had appeared a long way off, but suddenly I found myself upon it. It was a glazed window, and perpendicular shadows down it told me it was barred on the outside. I tried to gaze out upon the sea, but it was too dark for me to distinguish anything, except indeed the faintly luminous white of the water where the ship cut through. Yet the thought that I was at sea was exhilarating, and rapidly my nausea fell away, and I drew in deep breaths as though to fill my lungs with the delicious salt air, though in the cabin there was little but the smell of pitch and damp canvas and rotting cordage. At a sudden thought I thrust my hand beneath my cloak. My weapons had both gone. But rummaging vaguely in my pockets I felt Jenny's guinea, and somehow the feel of it in my fingers gave me a sense of companionship and comfort. Next I began to explore my prison, for I didn't dare hope it was anything else; nor did I begin to reason out yet what strange cause had brought me there. It was enough for the moment to take bearings of my surroundings. And it was soon done. For I was confined in a box rather than a cabin. There was a pile of damp canvas matting on which I had been lying, but otherwise there was nothing in the place at all; and it measured only three of my full paces either way. I felt for the door. The handle turned, but the door was firmly locked or bolted on the other side. I shook it, not vigorously, but merely to learn whether there were anyone on guard; and sure enough a harsh, deep voice from the outside advised me with an oath to keep quiet.