I knew the voice from its rough harsh tones, and I lay waiting for some one to answer, but there was no reply, and all was blacker and hotter than ever, when there came the peculiar smacking noise of one passing his tongue over his dry lips, and once more he spoke. "D'yer hear, what is it?" There was no reply, and it seemed to me that the speaker was settling himself down to go to sleep again, for he moved uneasily. "What did yer say, Neb?" I had not heard Neb Dumlow say anything, and I wondered why I had not, for I did not think I had been to sleep. But I felt that I must have been, or I should have heard. "Mussy me, what a head I've got!" muttered the voice. "Did the gents give us some rum?" There was a pause. "Must ha' done, but I don't recklect. Why, it must ha' been a whole lot." My head must have been growing less confused, for now I began to be puzzled about how it was that Bob Hampton was sleeping in our cabin instead of just under shelter with the others at the entrance of the saloon. It was very strange, but I was too stupid to arrange things. Once I wondered whether I really was in the cabin along with Mr Frewen, but I got no farther with that line of reasoning, and I was sinking back into my stupor or lethargy when Bob Hampton spoke again. "Here, Neb--Barney, open something, and let's have some fresh air. My, how hot!" He had a headache too then, and could hardly breathe for the hot closeness of the place. This roused me, and I lay thinking how strange it was that he should be just as much indisposed as I was to move. But he was a fore-mast man and I was an officer, so I had only to speak to be obeyed, and after making two or three efforts which only resulted in a dull muttering sound, Bob Hampton exclaimed-- "Here, whatcher talking about? Who is it, and what do you want?" "I say, open the window, Bob, and let's have some fresh air." There was a quick rustling movement close by me, as if some one had risen upon his elbow, and he exclaimed-- "What d'yer say?" "Open the window, Bob; I'm half-stifled." "So'm I, my lad. Here, what's the matter? What are you doing here?" "No," I said; "what are you doing here in the cabin, Bob?" "I arn't in the cabin, my lad, and you arn't in the cabin, for this arn't in it, and--Here, I say, what's up?" "I don't know," I said peevishly, "but it's so hot I can't bear it; do open something." "Blest if I--Look here, my lad--There arn't anything to open anywheres, and my head won't go. Would you mind telling me where the sky-light is, for I s'pose I had too much grog last night like a fool, and I arn't werry clear in the head." "I don't know, I can't tell, Bob. It's all a puzzle." "And it's so plaguey dark, my lad. Wait a bit and I'll feel round with my fingers, for eyes aren't no good here." "Well," I said, for there was a good deal of rustling, "what can you feel?"