It was very early the next morning. Justice was curled up on the boarded floor of the dark confined hold in that happy, hazy, half-world between sleep and wakefulness. He was dimly aware that his back ached and his legs were stiff. He felt so sore, lying there on the hard wooden deck. The blanket that covered him was rough and coarse. His head was pressed against the hard calico bundle that served as his pillow. It smelt so strange and it prickled his face.
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