It is no good fighting against the impossible." "I know it, or I'd have seen you damned before I'd have struck to you," growled the old man sourly.
"Quite so! Now, your papers, if you please, and quick!" and the captain turned to go for them.
All this I heard mazily, for my head was still whirring with its discovery.
Then, without a sign of warning, like one jerked by sudden instinct, Torode turned, pushed through the double row of men behind whom I had shrunk--and they opened quickly enough at his approach--and raising his great fist struck me to the deck like an ox.
When I came to I was lying in a bunk, bound hand and foot.

My head was aching badly, and close above me on deck great traffic was going on between the ship and the schooner, transferring choice pickings of the cargo, I supposed, when my senses got slowly to work again.
But why was I there--and still alive?
That was a puzzle beyond me entirely.

By all rights, and truly according to my expectation, I should have been a dead man.

Why was I here, and unharmed, save for a singing head?
Puzzle as I might, I had nothing to go upon and could make nothing of it.
But since I was still alive, hope grew in me.

For it would have been no more trouble to Torode to kill me--less indeed.