He was in a ship's bunk and he was a prisoner of somebody.

He was filled with a fierce and consuming rage.

He had no doubt that he was on the schooner that had run him down, nor did he doubt either that he had been run down purposely.

Then he lay still and by long staring was able to make out a low swaying roof above him and very narrow walls.

It was a strait, confined place, and it was certainly deep down in the schooner's hold.