Thomas Mugridge routed me out at half-past five, much in the fashion that Bill Sykes must have routed out his dog; but Mr.Mugridge's brutality to me was paid back in kind and with interest.

The unnecessary noise he made (I had lain wide-eyed the whole night) must have awakened one of the hunters; for a heavy shoe whizzed through the semi-darkness, and Mr.Mugridge, with a sharp howl of pain, humbly begged everybody's pardon.

Later on, in the galley, I noticed that his ear was bruised and swollen.

It never went entirely back to its normal shape, and was called a "cauliflower ear" by the sailors.
The day was filled with miserable variety.

I had taken my dried clothes down from the galley the night before, and the first thing I did was to exchange the cook's garments for them.