It may be argued that I must have been in a highly nervous condition in order to be affected in such a manner by the mere sight of a man—­a man who had never addressed to me a single word of conversation.  Perhaps so.  Yet up to that period of my life my temperament and habit of mind had been calm, unimpressionable, and if I may say so, not specially absurd.

What need to inquire how the man had got on board that ship—­how he had escaped death in the railway accident—­how he had eluded my sight at Dover Priory?  There he stood.  Evidently he had purposed to pursue me to Paris, and little things like railway collisions were insufficient to deter him.  I surmised that he must have quitted the compartment at Sittingbourne immediately after me, meaning to follow me, but that the starting of the train had prevented him from entering the same compartment as I entered.  According to this theory, he must have jumped into another compartment lower down the train as the train was moving, and left it when the collision occurred, keeping his eye on me all the time, but not coming forward.  He must even have walked after me down the line from Dover Priory to the pier.

However, a shipwreck was a more serious affair than a railway accident.  And if the ship were indeed doomed, it would puzzle even him to emerge with his life.  He might seize me in the water, and from simple hate drag me to destruction,—­yes, that was just what he would do,—­but he would have a difficulty in saving himself.  Such were my wild and fevered notions!

On the starboard bow I saw the dim bulk and the masthead lights of a steamer approaching us.  The other passengers had observed it, too, and there was a buzz of anticipation on the slanting deck.  Only the inimical man opposite to me seemed to ignore the stir.  He did not even turn round to look at the object which had aroused the general excitement.  His eyes never left me.

The vessel came nearer, till we could discern clearly the outline of her, and a black figure on her bridge.  She was not more than a hundred yards away when the beat of her engines stopped.  She hailed us.  We waited for the answering call from our own captain, but there was no reply.  Twice again she hailed us, and was answered only by silence.

“Why don’t our people reply?” an old lady asked, who came up to me at that moment, breathing heavily.

“Because they are d——­d fools,” I said roughly.  She was a most respectable and prim old lady; yet I could not resist shocking her ears by an impropriety.

The other ship moved away into the night.

Was I in a dream?  Was this a pantomime shipwreck?  Then it occurred to me that the captain was so sure of being ultimately able to help himself that he preferred from motives of economy to decline assistance which would involve a heavy salvage claim.

My self-possessed young man came along again in the course of his peregrinations, the girl whom he called Lottie still on his arm.  He stopped for a chat.