Captain Nugent awoke the morning after his attempt to crimp his son with a bad headache.

Not an ordinary headache, to disappear with a little cold water and fresh air; but a splitting, racking affair, which made him feel all head and dulness.

Weights pressed upon his eye-lids and the back of his head seemed glued to his pillow.
He groaned faintly and, raising himself upon his elbow, opened his eyes and sat up with a sharp exclamation.

His bed was higher from the floor than usual and, moreover, the floor was different.

In the dim light he distinctly saw a ship's forecastle, untidy bunks with frouzy bedclothes, and shiny oil-skins hanging from the bulkhead.
For a few moments he stared about in mystification; he was certainly ill, and no doubt the forecastle was an hallucination.