"If this ole packet is 'aunted, as some on 'em seems to think, well all
as I can say is, let me 'ave the luck to tumble across another of the
same sort. Good grub, an' duff fer Sundays, an' a decent crowd of 'em
aft, an' everythin' comfertable like, so as yer can feel yer knows where
yer are. As fer 'er bein' 'aunted, that's all 'ellish nonsense. I've
comed 'cross lots of 'em before as was said to be 'aunted, an' so some
on 'em was; but 'twasn't with ghostesses. One packet I was in, they was
that bad yer couldn't sleep a wink in yer watch below, until yer'd 'ad
every stitch out yer bunk an' 'ad a reg'lar 'unt. Sometimes--" At that
moment, the relief, one of the ordinary seamen, went up the other ladder
on to the fo'cas'le head, and the old chap turned to ask him "Why the
'ell" he'd not relieved him a bit smarter. The ordinary made some reply;
but what it was, I did not catch; for, abruptly, away aft, my rather
sleepy gaze had lighted on something altogether extraordinary and
outrageous. It was nothing less than the form of a man stepping inboard
over the starboard rail, a little abaft the main rigging. I stood up,
and caught at the handrail, and stared.
Behind me, someone spoke. It was the look-out, who had come down off the
fo'cas'le head, on his way aft to report the name of his relief to the
second mate.
"What is it, mate?" he asked, curiously, seeing my intent attitude.
The thing, whatever it was, had disappeared into the shadows on the lee
side of the deck.
"Nothing!" I replied, shortly; for I was too bewildered then, at what my
eyes had just shown me, to say any more. I wanted to think.
The old shellback glanced at me; but only muttered something, and went
on his way aft.
For a minute, perhaps, I stood there, watching; but could see nothing.
Then I walked slowly aft, as far as the after end of the deck house.
From there, I could see most of the main deck; but nothing showed,
except, of course, the moving shadows of the ropes and spars and sails,
as they swung to and fro in the moonlight.
The old chap who had just come off the look-out, had returned forrard
again, and I was alone on that part of the deck. And then, all at once,
as I stood peering into the shadows to leeward, I remembered what
Williams had said about there being too many "shadders." I had been
puzzled to understand his real meaning, then. I had no difficulty _now_.
There _were_ too many shadows. Yet, shadows or no shadows, I realised
that for my own peace of mind, I must settle, once and for all, whether
the thing I had seemed to see stepping aboard out of the ocean, had been
a reality, or simply a phantom, as you might say, of my imagination. My
reason said it was nothing more than imagination, a rapid dream--I must
have dozed; but something deeper than reason told me that this was not
so. I put it to the test, and went straight in amongst the shadows--
There was nothing.
I grew bolder. My common sense told me I must have fancied it all. I
walked over to the mainmast, and looked behind the pinrail that partly
surrounded it, and down into the shadow of the pumps; but here again was
nothing. Then I went in under the break of the poop. It was darker under
there than out on deck. I looked up both sides of the deck, and saw that
they were bare of anything such as I looked for. The assurance was
comforting. I glanced at the poop ladders, and remembered that nothing
could have gone up there, without the Second Mate or the Time-keeper
seeing it. Then I leant my back up against the bulkshead, and thought
the whole matter over, rapidly, sucking at my pipe, and keeping my
glance about the deck. I concluded my think, and said "No!" out loud.
Then something occurred to me, and I said "Unless--" and went over to
the starboard bulwarks, and looked over and down into the sea; but there
was nothing but sea; and so I turned and made my way forrard. My common
sense had triumphed, and I was convinced that my imagination had been
playing tricks with me.
I reached the door on the portside, leading into the fo'cas'le, and was
about to enter, when something made me look behind. As I did so, I had a
shaker. Away aft, a dim, shadowy form stood in the wake of a swaying
belt of moonlight, that swept the deck a bit abaft the main-mast.
It was the same figure that I had just been attributing to my fancy. I
will admit that I felt more than startled; I was quite a bit frightened.
I was convinced now that it was no mere imaginary thing. It was a human
figure. And yet, with the flicker of the moonlight and the shadows
chasing over it, I was unable to say more than that. Then, as I stood
there, irresolute and funky, I got the thought that someone was acting
the goat; though for what reason or purpose, I never stopped to
consider. I was glad of any suggestion that my common sense assured me
was not impossible; and, for the moment, I felt quite relieved. That
side to the question had not presented itself to me before. I began to
pluck up courage. I accused myself of getting fanciful; otherwise I
should have tumbled to it earlier. And then, funnily enough, in spite of
all my reasoning, I was still afraid of going aft to discover who that
was, standing on the lee side of the maindeck. Yet I felt that if I
shirked it, I was only fit to be dumped overboard; and so I went, though
not with any great speed, as you can imagine.
I had gone half the distance, and still the figure remained there,
motionless and silent--the moonlight and the shadows playing over it
with each roll of the ship. I think I tried to be surprised. If it were
one of the fellows playing the fool, he must have heard me coming, and
why didn't he scoot while he had the chance? And where could he have
hidden himself, before? All these things, I asked myself, in a rush,
with a queer mixture of doubt and belief; and, you know, in the
meantime, I was drawing nearer. I had passed the house, and was not
twelve paces distant; when, abruptly, the silent figure made three quick
strides to the port rail, and _climbed over it into the sea_.
I rushed to the side, and stared over; but nothing met my gaze, except
the shadow of the ship, sweeping over the moonlit sea.
How long I stared down blankly into the water, it would be impossible to
say; certainly for a good minute. I felt blank--just horribly blank. It
was such a beastly confirmation of the _unnaturalness_ of the thing I
had concluded to be only a sort of brain fancy. I seemed, for that
little time, deprived, you know, of the power of coherent thought. I
suppose I was dazed--mentally stunned, in a way.
As I have said, a minute or so must have gone, while I had been staring
into the dark of the water under the ship's side. Then, I came suddenly
to my ordinary self. The Second Mate was singing out: "Lee fore brace."