Adventure and adventurers > Hudson Bay, or, Everyday life in the wilds of North America

A SLEEPY NIGHT.
48
right to the name. It was awfully small—even I could
not stand upright in it, though at the time I had
scarcely attained to the altitude of five feet; yet here
were we destined to pass the night—and a wretched
night we did pass. We got over the first part tolerably,
but as it grew late our eyes grew heavy. We yawned,
fidgeted, and made superhuman efforts to keep awake
and seem happy; but it would not do. There were
only two berths in the cabin; and, as so many gentle¬
men were present, Mrs. Gowley would not get into
either of them, but declared she would sit up all night.
The gentlemen, on the other hand, could not be so un¬
gallant as to go to sleep while the only lady present sat
up. The case was desperate, and so I went off to the
hold, intending to lie down on a bale, if I could find
one. In my search I tumbled over something soft,
which gave vent to a frightful howl, and proved to be
no less a personage than Mr. Wiseacre, who had an¬
ticipated me, and found a convenient place whereon to
lie. My search, however, was less successful. Not a
comer big enough for a cat to sleep in was to be found,
all the goods having been flung hastily into the hold, so
that it was a chaos of box comers, stove legs, edges of kegs
and casks, which presented a surface that put to flight all
hope of horizontal repose; so I was obliged to return to
the cabin, where I found the unhappy inmates winking
and blinking at each other like owls in the sunshine.
“ You had better make use of one of these berths, my
young friend,” said Mr. Gowley, with a bland smile, as I
entered; “you seem very much overcome with sleep,
and we have resolved to sit up all night.”