“Get some more lamps!  Get some more lamps!” he was singing out.  Then he swore.

He sung out something further.  I caught the last two words.

“...carried away,” they sounded like.

“No, Sir,” shouted the Second Mate.  “I don’t think so.”

A minute of some confusion followed; and then came the click of pawls.  I could tell that they had taken the haulyards to the after capstan.  Odd words floated up to me.

“...all this water?” I heard in the Old Man’s voice.  He appeared to be asking a question.

“Can’t say, Sir,” came the Second Mate’s.

There was a period of time, filled only by the clicking of the pawls and the sounds of the creaking parrel and the running gear.  Then the Second Mate’s voice came again.

“Seems all right, Sir,” I heard him say.

I never heard the Old Man’s reply; for in the same moment, there came to me a chill of cold breath at my back.  I turned sharply, and saw something peering over the taffrail.  It had eyes that reflected the binnacle light, weirdly, with a frightful, tigerish gleam; but beyond that, I could see nothing with any distinctness.  For the moment, I just stared.  I seemed frozen.  It was so close.  Then movement came to me, and I jumped to the binnacle and snatched out the lamp.  I twitched round, and shone the light towards it.  The thing, whatever it was, had come more forward over the rail; but now, before the light, it recoiled with a queer, horrible litheness.  It slid back, and down, and so out of sight.  I have only a confused notion of a wet glistening Something, and two vile eyes.  Then I was running, crazy, towards the break of the poop.  I sprang down the ladder, and missed my footing, and landed on my stern, at the bottom.  In my left hand I held the still burning binnacle lamp.  The men were putting away the capstan-bars; but at my abrupt appearance, and the yell I gave out at falling, one or two of them fairly ran backwards a short distance, in sheer funk, before they realised what it was.

From somewhere further forrard, the Old Man and the Second Mate came running aft.

“What the devil’s up now?” sung out the Second, stopping and bending to stare at me.  “What’s to do, that you’re away from the wheel?”

I stood up and tried to answer him; but I was so shaken that I could only stammer.

“I—­I—­there—­” I stuttered.

“Damnation!” shouted the Second Mate, angrily.  “Get back to the wheel!”

I hesitated, and tried to explain.

“Do you damned well hear me?” he sung out.

“Yes, Sir; but—­” I began.

“Get up on to the poop, Jessop!” he said.

I went.  I meant to explain, when he came up.  At the top of the ladder, I stopped.  I was not going back alone to that wheel.  Down below, I heard the Old Man speaking.

“What on earth is it now, Mr. Tulipson?” he was saying.

The Second Mate made no immediate reply; but turned to the men, who were evidently crowding near.