Caspian opened one of the lockers beneath the bench and brought out the beautiful little diamond flask which Lucy remembered so well. “Take back your own， Queen，” he said. They then left the cabin and went out into the sunshine.
In the deck there were two large， long hatches， fore and aft of the mast， and both open， as they always were in fair weather， to let light and air into the belly of the ship. Caspian led them down a ladder into the after hatch. Here they found themselves in a place where benches for rowing ran from side to side and the light came in through the oar- holes and danced on the roof. Of course Caspian‘s ship was not that horrible thing， a galley rowed by slaves. Oars were used only whenwind failed or for getting in and out of harbour and everyone （except Reepicheep whose legs were too short） had often taken a turn. At each
side of the ship the space under the benches was left clear for the rowers’ feet， but all down the centre there was a kind of pit which went down to the very keel and this was filled with all kinds of things-sacks of flour， casks of water and beer， barrels of pork， jars of honey， skin bottles of wine， apples， nuts， cheeses， biscuits， turnips， sides of bacon. From the roof-that is， from the under side of the deck-hung hams and strings of onions， and also the men of the watch off-duty in their hammocks. Caspian led them aft， stepping from bench to bench； at least， it was stepping for him， and something between a step and a jump for Lucy， and a real long jump for Reepicheep. In this way they came to a partition with a door in it. Caspian opened the door and led them into a cabin which filled the stern underneath the deck cabins in the poop. It was of course not so nice. It was very low and the sides sloped together as they went down so that there was hardly any floor； and though it had windows of thick glass， they were not made to open because they were under water. In fact at this very moment， as the ship pitched they were alternately golden with sunlight and dim green with the sea.
“You and I must lodge here， Edmund，” said Caspian. “We‘ll leave your kinsman the bunk and sling hammocks for ourselves.”
“I beseech your Majesty-” said Drinian.
“No， no shipmate，” said Caspian， “we have argued all that out already. You and Rhince” （Rhince was the mate） “are sailing the ship and will have cares and labours many a night when we are singing catches or telling stories， so you and he must have the port cabin above. King Edmund and I can lie very snug here below. But how is the stranger？”
Eustace， very green in the face， scowled and asked whether there was any sign of the storm getting less. But Caspian said， “What storm？” and Drinian burst out laughing.
“Storm， young master！” he roared. “This is as fair weather as a man could ask for.”
“Who’s that？” said Eustace irritably. “Send him away. His voice goes through my head.”
“I‘ve brought you something that will make you feel better， Eustace，” said Lucy.
him to the moon. After that he sulkily agreed to put on the freshclothes which had been put out for him and come on deck.
Caspian now showed them over the ship， though indeed they had seen most of it already. They went up on the forecastle and saw the look-out man standing on a little shelf inside the gilded dragon’s neck and peering through its open mouth. Inside the forecastle was the galley （or ship‘s kitchen） and quarters for such people as the boatswain， the carpenter， the cook and the master archer. If you think it odd to have the galley in the bows and imagine the smoke from its chimney streaming back over the ship， that is because you are thinking of steamships where there is always a headwind. On a sailing ship the wind is coming from behind， and anything smelly is put as far forward as possible. They were taken up to the fighting top， and at first it was rather alarming to rock to and fro there and see the deck looking small and far away beneath. You realized that if you fell there was no particular reason why you should fall on board rather than in the sea. Then they were taken to the poop， where Rhince was on duty with another man at the great tiller， and behind that the dragon’s tail rose up， covered with gilding， and round inside it ran a little bench. The name of the ship was Dawn Treader. She was only a little bit of a thingcompared with one of our ships， or even with the cogs， dromonds， carracks and galleons which Narnia had owned when Lucy and Edmund had reigned there under Peter as the High King， for nearly all navigation had died out in the reigns of Caspian‘s ancestors. When his uncle， Miraz the usurper， had sent the seven lords to sea， they had had to buy a Galmian ship and man it with hired Galmian sailors. But now Caspian had begun to teach the Narnians to be sea-faring folk once more， and the Dawn Treader was the finest ship he had built yet.
She was so small that， forward of the mast， there was hardly any deck room between the central hatch and the ship’s boat on one side and the hen-coop （Lucy fed the hens） on the other. But she was a beauty of her kind， a “lady” as sailors say， her lines perfect， her colours pure， and every spar and rope and pin lovingly made. Eustace of course would be pleased with nothing， and kept on boasting about liners and motor- boats and aeroplanes and submarines （“As if he knew anything about them，” muttered Edmund）， but the other two were delighted with the Dawn Treader， and when they returned aft to the cabin and supper， and saw the whole western sky lit up with an immense crimson sunset， and felt the quiver of the ship， and tasted the salt on their lips， and thought of unknown lands on the Eastern rim of the world， Lucy felt that she was almost too happy to speak.