"Eh, eh, what?" asked Gawthrop. He blinked at the men, and with a fallen jaw wagged his head from side to side. "Where am I?" he asked. "On board the _'Ampshire_, sonny," said Tom. "Come, show a leg!" "Humph!" said Gawthrop, and he rolled a dry tongue against his teeth. "Am I asleep?" "I'll lay odds you won't be in ten minutes," said Tom. "What's the game you're playin'?" Gawthrop stared at him and rolled his eyes round the foc'sle. He saw fifteen grinning faces in the light from the scuttle above. Outside the open foc'sle door he beheld the foremast, with its rail and the gear coiled on the pins. "It's a ship," said Gawthrop, "it's obviously a ship!" The men looked at each other. "D'ye think he's a greenhorn?" "Hocussed!" "Shanghaied!" The word "Shanghai" fetched Gawthrop clean out of his dream. It hit him fair and square, and though it half-stunned him, it woke him, all the same. "Where am I?" "In the _Hampshire_ and at sea," said all hands eagerly. They saw what had happened quicker than he did. For reasons which he did not yet understand they believed him a seaman, but they saw he had been shipped against his will. "D'ye think it was Shanghai Smith as done it?" "Ah," said Gawthrop. "Why, where's Hunt?" "D'ye mean your mate as come aboard wid you?" asked Tom. "There 'e is, 'ard and fast asleep. Wake 'im up, chaps: I say, 'ere's a game." Gawthrop put a leg out and dropped on deck just as Tom got Hunt by the hair and gave it a yank that nearly raised his scalp, but did not wake him. "Is this 'im?" In the half-light Gawthrop saw a face which was the colour of dark mahogany, and did not recognise his rival. "No," he said. He did not know that Billy, with a professional ardour that did him credit, had coloured Hunt and himself with walnut juice on their faces and hands till they appeared to have been tanned the three skins deep. And just as Gawthrop denied that he knew Hunt, the boson's whistle blew. "You'd best come on deck. They're goin' to pick the watches," said Tom. And Gawthrop, still in a maze, followed the rest. When the fresh air blew on him, his mind cleared as suddenly as if a fog had rolled up. "By the Lord, I've been done," he said, and he knew it was Gardiner who had done him. "All right," he said, "I'll get even. The captain must put back. I'll pay him to do it." His knowledge of the sea was limited. Though he was the citizen of a republic, he had been accustomed to deference. That was when he was Sibley Gawthrop. He was now a nameless man in dungaree trousers and a blue shirt, in a ship bound for London with a fine fair wind. He walked aft with the defiant yet shamed air of a man who has been at a fancy ball and finds himself surprised by daylight. "I want to see the captain," he said to the first man whom he met aft. It happened to be Jones, the second "greaser."