I soon fell asleep, and remembered nothing until I was awakened by the crowing of the cocks in the morning. It was still dark, and in the unceiled and low-roofed house I could hear my allies snoring most harmoniously in their several snuggeries. At length, after several long yawns, and a few preparatory snorts, and clearances of his voice, out spoke my restless acquaintance, Master Flamingo. "Why, Rory--Rory Macgregor--how sound the body sleeps--why, Rory, I say"---- "Oich, oich, fat's tat--wha's tat--and what will she pe wantin'?" "Wanting?--Don't you remember your promise? Didn't I tell you that I had come to spend the night here, in order to have a crack at the ducks this morning?" "Ducks this morning," thought I--"Ducks--does the madcap mean to shoot ducks, after such a night and such a scene?" "Tucks," grunted Rory--"tucks?" then a long snore. "Ducks, to be sure; so get up, Mac--get up." "Well, well," yawned the Macgregor; "I will, I will; put ton't waken tae hail hoose--ton't tisturp Mr Frenche nor Mr Prail." "Oh, never mind, Flamingo," quoth my uncle, turning himself in his bed, and clearing his voice; "I am awake, and Dennis has brought my gun I find." And here followed a concerto of coughing, and yawning, and groaning, and puffing, as of the pulling on of tight or damp boots, and rumblings and stumblings against the furniture of the various apartments, and all the other miscellaneous noises incidental to a party dressing in the dark. "Romulus, a light," shouted Twig. "Twister, a ditto," roared Flamingo; and these exclamations called forth a renewed volley of snortings and long yawns from the negro servants, who were sleeping in the inner hall. "Twister, get me a light, you lazy villain, don't you hear?" "Yes, yes, massa, directly"--snore. "_Directly_, you sleepy dog!--_now_, sir--get it me _now_. Don't you hear that I have broken my shin, and capsized the basin-stand, and I can't tell what besides?" "Yes, yes, massa"--snore again. I heard a door open, and presently a loud tumble, and a crackling and rattling of chairs, and startled cries from the negroes. "Murder! Twig--where's your patent lucifer match box? Here have I fallen over that rascal of yours, and I am terrified to move, lest I break my own neck, or extinguish some black fellow out and out. Gemini! if my great toe has not got into some one's mouth. Hillo, Quashie, mind that's my toe, and not a yam. Oh dear, will no one get me a candle? Jacob, you cannibal, do come and rescue me, or I shall be smothered amidst this odoriferous and flat-nosed variety of the human species." I had never spent such a morning, and as it was quite evident that there was no more sleep to be had, I got up and dressed the best way I could. We were soon all congregated in the inner hall by candle light, with half a dozen black fellows, and as many fowling-pieces, blunderbusses, and muskets as there were buccras, ready to sally forth to attack the teal.