Again he turned upon his back, whispering to Nicht Wahr: “You know that my black beast is insomnia, and it has never been worse than recently. Therefore I must snatch my sleep when I can. I never felt so much like it in my life. Keep awake until the ship is filled—excuse me—don’t speak to me!—and don’t let me sleep after six o’clock.” “Ay, ay, sir,” answered Nicht Wahr, though his own eyelids were heavy. “But there will be no need of that, sir. You always wake first. Your sleeplessness is a great misfortune to us all.” Ruhet was already asleep. However, by threats and persuasion, and even beatings, Wahr kept the men at work until everything on the ship which could hold water was full. Then all dropped to sleep in their tracks. II AND THE POLITE CANNON OF WEISS NICHT Now it happened that, by reason of the admiral’s recent insomnia, he _did_ wake first—having slept but four hundred years and some odd months and weeks and days. And as he woke (the next morning, as he supposed) he swore with ecstasy—so fine did he feel. “Wake up, you lazy lunkers!” he cried gayly to his men, making a prodigious yawn himself. “I feel like a fighting cock—” or words to that effect. I am not a nautical person. At all events he went on addressing them: “Unless all signs fail, something will happen this good day. By my bay mare’s currycomb, I pity the craft that the Tonans falls in with to-day. For, having drunken, we now need to eat, and there is not a rat aboard the Tonans that might serve us for food. Up with you!” A few of the men who, like Ruhet, did not sleep well, struggled to wakefulness at his voice. But, as to the most of them, it required his heavy boot, and his nearly as heavy hand, to kick and cuff them to their senses. However, at last, all were awake, and so good had been the admiral’s rest that his temper still kept. And this was saying much for Ruhet. Weiss Nicht, the second officer, came for orders, scarcely able to conceal his yawn, for he was one of the crew who was never troubled with insomnia, notwithstanding the fact that Ruhet had made it fashionable. “Up anchor and away, Weiss Nicht. Some ship must furnish us meat to-day, and we will give them water in exchange.” Each took a final drink from the spring, which now flowed full and free once more, and then went to their stations with as good a will as Ruhet himself. And it required this to get the sleepy ship under way. For, having once drunk of the Spring of The Thousand Years, one is immune; its waters have no more power to cause sleep, but, on the contrary, produce such a delightful state of exhilaration as to approach mild intoxication. It was in this blissful state that they finally set sail.