He rose suddenly, his mind dully trying to grasp the situation. He lurched to the porthole and looked out. It was a wilderness of amber-color and white, rather bewildering and terrifying seen so near at hand, for Geltman had been accustomed to look upon the ocean from the security of fifty feet of freeboard. Far away where the leaping wave crests met the line of sky, he could just distinguish the faint blue of the land. He was seized with a sudden terror and, turning, he ran to the cabin door and tried to open it. It was locked. He threw himself against it and cried aloud, but his voice was lost in the rush of wind and water without. His despairing eye at this moment lit upon a push-button by the side of the bunk. He touched it with his finger and anxiously waited. There was no sound. He sat upon the edge of the bunk, conscious of a cold wind blowing upon his bare toes and of a dull ache within which proclaimed the lack of food or drink, or both. He rang again and renewed his shouting. In a moment there was the sound of a key in the lock, the door opened, and a sober, smooth-shaven person in brass buttons stood in the door. "Did you ring, sir?" said the man, respectfully. "I did," said Geltman, wrathfully. "Yes, sir," said the man. "Can I get you anything, sir?" "Can you get me--?" began the bewildered Geltman. "Is there anything you _can't_ get me? Get me some food--my own clothes--and get me--get me--out of this. Where am I? What am I doing here?" "You were sleeping, sir," said the man, imperturbably. "I thought you might not wish to be disturbed." Geltman looked around him again as though unwilling to credit the evidence of his senses. He saw that the man kept his hand upon the door and eyed him narrowly. "I've been drugged and shanghaied. What boat is this? Where are we?" "We're at sea, sir," said the man, quietly. "Off Fire Island, I believe, sir." "Fire Island," he cried, "and this--" as memory came back with a horrible rush--"what day is this?" "Wednesday, June the twentieth," replied the man, calmly. Geltman raised his hands toward the deck beams and sank upon the bunk on the verge of collapse. He remembered now--it was his wedding day! CHAPTER II As the fog upon his memory still hung heavily he raised his head toward the man at the door of the cabin. That person was eyeing him rather pityingly and had come a step forward into the room. "Shall I be getting you something, sir?" he was saying again. Geltman sprang unsteadily to his feet. "No," he cried. "I'm going to get out of this." "In pajamas, sir?" said the man, reproachfully. Geltman glanced down at the flimsy silk garment.