"Well," continued the commander, his voice making use of the breeze as he stood aft of the group, "I could not have slept more than three or four hours on a stretch, when I was woke by a fellow shoving his lantern in my face, and saying it wasn't me he wanted; for which I gave him a hearty objurgation, and turned over a swing of the cot to go asleep again. The sailor grumbled something about the parson being wanted for the captain; and all at once it flashed on my mind where we were, with the whole of last night's ticklish work--seeing that, hard rub as it was, it had clean left me for a time. 'Try the aftermost berth, then,' said I, slipping out in the dark to put on my trousers. "The fact was, on going below to our state-room, I had found my own cot taken up by someone in the confusion; and as every door stood open at night in that latitude, I e'en made free with the nearest, which I knew was the missionary's. In a minute or two I heard Westwood meet the mate, who said he thought the captain would like to see him, and hoped they hadn't 'disturbed the other gentleman.' 'Oh no, I daresay not,' said Westwood, rather nervously, guessing, I daresay, what he was wanted for; while Finch slipped quietly past to listen at the state-room door, where both he and I might hear the 'other gentleman,' whoever he was, snoring pretty plain. "When the first officer shut the door to, however, turned the key, and put it in his pocket, I nearly gave vent to a whistle. 'I see!' thought I; 'but, my fine fellow, it seemed you never were meant for a good jailer, anyhow!' He was no sooner gone than I walked forward toward the captain's cabin, near the after-hatchway, anxious enough to see how the poor man was, since I had had such a share in bringing him to a point, one way or another. Westwood was standing against the light out of the open door, and I looked in along with him, at the cot slung high to the beams like a lump of shadow, the lamp striking across below it on all the captain's little affairs--his glazed hat and his wet coat, the names of two or three old books even hanging in shelves against the bulkhead--and into the little state-room off the cabin, where the surgeon was stooping to mix a draught.