“It seemed,” he told me afterwards, “as if I was being carried irresistibly towards the water.  I was not very much alarmed at first.  Of course it was night there—­a lovely night.”

“Of course?” I asked, for that struck me as odd.

“Of course,” said he.  “It’s always night there when it is day here....  Well, we went right into the water, which was calm and shining under the moonlight—­just a broad swell that seemed to grow broader and flatter as I came down into it.  The surface glistened just like a skin—­it might have been empty space underneath for all I could tell to the contrary.  Very slowly, for I rode slanting into it, the water crept up to my eyes.  Then I went under and the skin seemed to break and heal again about my eyes.  The moon gave a jump up in the sky and grew green and dim, and fish, faintly glowing, came darting round me—­and things that seemed made of luminous glass, and I passed through a tangle of seaweeds that shone with an oily lustre.  And so I drove down into the sea, and the stars went out one by one, and the moon grew greener and darker, and the seaweed became a luminous purple-red.  It was all very faint and mysterious, and everything seemed to quiver.  And all the while I could hear the wheels of the bath-chair creaking, and the footsteps of people going by, and a man in the distance selling the special Pall Mall.

“I kept sinking down deeper and deeper into the water.  It became inky black about me, not a ray from above came down into that darkness, and the phosphorescent things grew brighter and brighter.  The snaky branches of the deeper weeds flickered like the flames of spirit lamps; but, after a time, there were no more weeds.  The fishes came staring and gaping towards me, and into me and through me.  I never imagined such fishes before.  They had lines of fire along the sides of them as though they had been outlined with a luminous pencil.  And there was a ghastly thing swimming backwards with a lot of twining arms.  And then I saw, coming very slowly towards me through the gloom, a hazy mass of light that resolved itself as it drew nearer into multitudes of fishes, struggling and darting round something that drifted.  I drove on straight towards it, and presently I saw in the midst of the tumult, and by the light of the fish, a bit of splintered spar looming over me, and a dark hull tilting over, and some glowing phosphorescent forms that were shaken and writhed as the fish bit at them.  Then it was I began to try to attract Widgery’s attention.  A horror came upon me.  Ugh!  I should have driven right into those half-eaten—­things.  If your sister had not come!  They had great holes in them, Bellows, and ...  Never mind.  But it was ghastly!”

IV.

For three weeks Davidson remained in this singular state, seeing what at the time we imagined was an altogether phantasmal world, and stone blind to the world around him.  Then, one Tuesday, when I called I met old Davidson in the passage.  “He can see his thumb!” the old gentleman said, in a perfect transport.  He was struggling into his overcoat.  “He can see his thumb, Bellows!” he said, with the tears in his eyes.  “The lad will be all right yet.”