Repeatedly, after by good fortune securing a corner, I have been roused from it by some functionary commissioned to keep it clear.
Off Cape Horn, what before had been very uncomfortable became a serious hardship.

Drenched through and through by the spray of the sea at night.

I have sometimes slept standing on the spar-deck--and shuddered as I slept--for the want of sufficient sleep in my hammock.
During three days of the stormiest weather, we were given the privilege of the _berth-deck_ (at other times strictly interdicted), where we were permitted to spread our jackets, and take a nap in the morning after the eight hours' night exposure.

But this privilege was but a beggarly one, indeed.

Not to speak of our jackets--used for blankets--being soaking wet, the spray, coming down the hatchways, kept the planks of the berth-deck itself constantly wet; whereas, had we been permitted our hammocks, we might have swung dry over all this deluge.