WHEN I awoke I was very in my head. The sky was blue and the sea was calm. At first I thought that I must have fallen asleep in the sun on the deck of the Curlew. And thinking that I would be late for my turn at the wheel, I tried to rise to my feet. I found I couldn’t; my arms were tied to something behind me with a piece of rope. By twisting my neck around I found this to be a mast, broken off short. Then I realized that I wasn’t sitting on a ship at all; I was only sitting on a piece of one. I began to feel uncomfortably scared. Screwing up my eyes, I searched the of the sea North, East, South and West: no land: no ships; nothing was in sight. I was alone in the ocean!  
At last, little by little, my head began to remember what had happened: first, the coming of the storm; the sails going overboard; then the big wave which had banged me against the door. But what had become of the Doctor and the others? What day was this, to-morrow or the day after?—And why was I sitting on only part of a ship?
 
Working my hand into my pocket, I found my penknife and cut the rope that tied me. This reminded me of a story which Joe had once told me, of a captain who had tied his son to a mast in order that he shouldn’t be washed overboard by the . So of course it must have been the Doctor who had done the same to me.
 
But where was he?
 
The awful thought came to me that the Doctor and the rest of them must be drowned, since there was no other to be seen upon the waters. I got to my feet and stared around the sea again—Nothing—nothing but water and sky!
 
Presently a long way off I saw the small dark shape of a bird skimming low down over the . When it came quite close I saw it was a Stormy Petrel. I tried to talk to it, to see if it could give me news. But unluckily I hadn’t learned much seabird language and I couldn’t even attract its attention, much less make it understand what I wanted.
 
Twice it circled round my raft, lazily, with hardly a of the wing. And I could not help wondering, in spite of the I was in, where it had spent last night—how it, or any other living thing, had weathered such a smashing storm. It made me realize the great big difference between different creatures; and that size and strength are not everything. To this petrel, a little thing of feathers, much smaller and weaker than I, the Sea could do anything she liked, it seemed; and his only answer was a lazy, flip of the wing! He was the one who should be called the able . For, come raging gale, come sunlit calm, this of water was his home.
 
After over the sea around me (just looking for food, I supposed) he went off in the direction from which he had come. And I was alone once more.
 
I found I was somewhat hungry—and a little thirsty too. I began to think all sorts of thoughts, the way one does when he is lonesome and has missed breakfast. What was going to become of me now, if the Doctor and the rest were drowned? I would starve to death or die of thirst. Then the sun went behind some clouds and I felt cold. How many hundreds or thousands of miles was I from any land? What if another storm should come and smash up even this poor raft on which I stood?
 
I went on like this for a while, growing gloomier and gloomier, when suddenly I thought of Polynesia. “You’re always safe with the Doctor,” she had said. “He gets there. Remember that.”
 
I’m sure I wouldn’t have minded so much if he had been here with me. It was this being all alone that made me want to weep. And yet the petrel was alone!—What a baby I was, I told myself, to be scared to the of tears just by loneliness![229] I was quite safe where I was—for the present anyhow. John Dolittle wouldn’t get scared by a little thing like this. He only got excited when he made a discovery, found a new or something. And if what Polynesia had said was true, he couldn’t be drowned and things would come out all right in the end somehow.
 
I threw out my chest, buttoned up my collar and began walking up and down the short raft to keep warm. I would be like John Dolittle. I wouldn’t cry—And I wouldn’t get excited.
 
How long I paced back and I don’t know. But it was a long time—for I had nothing else to do.
 
At last I got tired and lay down to rest. And in spite of all my troubles, I soon fell fast asleep.
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