Clinging to the reeling bowsprit, he swung up on it, edged his way to the vessel's bows and stepped upon the deck.
"For thunder sakes!" he roared angrily, "what kind of navigation's this?
Where's your lights, you lubbers?
What d'you mean by--Where are you anyhow?
And--and what schooner's this ?" For the deck, as much as he could see of it in the dark, looked astonishingly familiar.

As he stumbled aft it became more familiar still.

The ropes, a combination of new and old, the new boards in the deck planking, the general arrangement of things, as familiar to him as the arrangement of furniture in the kitchen of the Lights! It could not be.

.

.