He grew gloomy but resourceful, also full of patience.

Only one idea obsessed him--to rescue his daughter and avenge the murder of his people; indeed, except his sins, he thought of and found interest in nothing else.

Moreover, his iron constitution cast off all the effects of his past debauchery and he grew so strong that although I was pretty tough in those days, he could out-tire me.
To return; I engaged him in conversation and with his help made a list of what we should require on our vendetta journey, all of which served to occupy his mind.

Then I sent him to bed, saying that I would call him before dawn, having first put a little more bromide into his third cup of coffee.

After this I turned in and notwithstanding the sight of those remains of the cannibal feast and the knowledge of the dead men who lay outside my window, I slept like a top.
Indeed, it was the Captain who awakened me, not I the Captain, saying that daylight was on the break and we had better be stirring.