And at last, as the fire came nearer and nearer, sir, I knew that if I lay there any longer I should be burned to death, and I thought I'd move." "And very wisely," said the major.
"Yes, sir; but I couldn't," said the stowaway.

"I wanted badly, and tried and tried, but I was much too weak.

And that's what made it seem like a dream; for the more I tried to creep out from under the sail, the more I lay still, as if something held me back.

And all the time there was a puddle of melted pitch bubbling and running slowly toward me.

My face burned and my hands were scorched, the wood was crackling, and the pitch rising up in blisters.