He enjoyed it in the dark, stretched out in his bunk with his new blankets pulled over him.
Some clock ashore beyond the dock-gates struck two.

And then he heard nothing more, because he went off into a light sleep from which he woke up with a start.

He had not taken his clothes off, it was hardly worth while.

He jumped up and went on deck.
The morning was clear, colourless, grey overhead; the dock like a sheet of darkling glass crowded with upside-down reflections of warehouses, of hulls and masts of silent ships.

Rare figures moved here and there on the distant quays.