My throbbing brows made sleep impossible, and I tried to ease them by staggering upon deck.

I saw a clear windy sky, with every star as bright as a live coal, and a heaving waste of dark waters running to ink-black hills.

Then a douche of spray caught me and sent me down the companion to my bunk again, where I lay for hours trying to make a plan of campaign.
I argued that if Amos had wanted me to have a passport he would have provided one, so I needn't bother my head about that.

But it was my business to keep alongside Gresson, and if the boat stayed a week in some port and he went off ashore, I must follow him.

Having no passport I would have to be always dodging trouble, which would handicap my movements and in all likelihood make me more conspicuous than I wanted.
I guessed that Amos had denied me the passport for the very reason that he wanted Gresson to think me harmless.