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.