“Well, I’d been here about ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour, and I was feeling rotten about Williams, and trying to forget it all and keep the ship on her course, and all that; when, all at once, I happened to glance to loo’ard, and there I saw it climbing over the rail.  My God!  I didn’t know what to do.  The Second Mate was standing forrard on the break of the poop, and I was here all by myself.  I felt as if I were frozen stiff.  When it came towards me, I let go of the wheel, and yelled and bunked forrard to the Second Mate.  He caught hold of me and shook me; but I was so jolly frightened, I couldn’t say a word.  I could only keep on pointing.  The Second kept asking me ‘Where?’ And then, all at once, I found I couldn’t see the thing.  I don’t know whether he saw it.  I’m not at all certain he did.  He just told me to damn well get back to the wheel, and stop making a damned fool of myself.  I said out straight I wouldn’t go.  So he blew his whistle, and sung out for someone to come aft and take it.  Then he ran and got hold of the wheel himself.  You know the rest.”

“You’re quite sure it wasn’t thinking about Williams made you imagine you saw something?” I said, more to gain a moment to think, than because I believed that it was the case.

“I thought you were going to listen to me, seriously!” he said, bitterly.  “If you won’t believe me; what about the chap the Second Mate saw?  What about Tom?  What about Williams?  For goodness sake! don’t try to put me off like you did last time.  I nearly went cracked with wanting to tell someone who would listen to me, and wouldn’t laugh.  I could stand anything, but this being alone.  There’s a good chap, don’t pretend you don’t understand.  Tell me what it all means.  What is this horrible man that I’ve twice seen?  You know you know something, and I believe you’re afraid to tell anyone, for fear of being laughed at.  Why don’t you tell me?  You needn’t be afraid of my laughing.”

He stopped, suddenly.  For the moment, I said nothing in reply.

“Don’t treat me like a kid, Jessop!” he exclaimed, quite passionately.

“I won’t,” I said, with a sudden resolve to tell him everything.  “I need someone to talk to, just as badly as you do.”

“What does it all mean, then?” he burst out.  “Are they real?  I always used to think it was all a yarn about such things.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what it all means, Tammy,” I answered.  “I’m just as much in the dark, there, as you are.  And I don’t know whether they’re real—­that is, not as we consider things real.  You don’t know that I saw a queer figure down on the maindeck, several nights before you saw that thing up here.”

“Didn’t you see this one?” he cut in, quickly.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Then, why did you pretend not to have?” he said, in a reproachful voice.  “You don’t know what a state you put me into, what with my being certain that I had seen it and then you being so jolly positive that there had been nothing.  At one time I thought I was going clean off my dot—­until the Second Mate saw that man go up the main.  Then, I knew that there must be something in the thing I was certain I’d seen.”