After the Coming of the Mist
After the of the mist, to quickly.
In the two or three days a good happened.
On the night of the day on which the Skipper had sent me away from the wheel, it was our watch on from eight o' clock to twelve, and my look-out from ten to twelve.
As I slowly to and across the fo'cas'le head, I was about the of the morning. At first, my were about the Old Man. I him to myself, for being a pig-headed old fool, until it to me that if I had been in his place, and come on to the ship almost aback, and the at the wheel out across the sea, of to his business, I should most have up a row. And then, I had been an to tell him about the ship. I should have done such a thing, if I had not been a adrift. Most likely the old I was cracked.
I to my about him, and to why the Second Mate had looked at me so in the morning. Did he more of the truth than I supposed? And if that were the case, why had he to to me?
After that, I to about the mist. I had a great about it, the day. One idea to me, very strongly. It was that the actual, visible was a of an atmosphere, in which we were moving.
Abruptly, as I walked and forwards, taking occasional over the sea (which was almost calm), my the of a light out in the darkness. I still, and stared. I it was the light of a vessel. In that case we were no longer in that atmosphere. I forward, and gave the thing my more attention. I saw then that it was the green light of a on our port bow. It was plain that she was on our bows. What was more, she was near—the size and of her light that. She would be close-hauled, while we were going free, so that, of course, it was our place to out of her way. Instantly, I and, my hands up to my mouth, the Second Mate:
"Light on the port bow, Sir."
The next moment his came back:
"Whereabouts?"
"He must be blind," I said to myself.
"About two points on the bow, Sir," I out.
Then I to see she had her position at all. Yet, when I came to look, there was no light visible. I ran to the bows, and over the rail, and stared; but there was nothing— nothing the all about us. For a I thus, and a across me, that the whole was a of the of the morning. Evidently, the something that the ship, had for an instant, thus me to see the light ahead. Now, it had closed again. Yet, I see, or not, I did not the that, there was a ahead, and very close ahead, too. We might on top of her any minute. My only was that, we were not out of her way, she had put her up, so as to let us pass, with the of then under our stern. I waited, anxiously, and listening. Then, all at once, I steps along the deck, forrard, and the 'prentice, time-keeping it was, came up on to the fo'cas'le head.
"The Second Mate says he can't see any light Jessop," he said, over to where I stood. "Whereabouts is it?"
"I don't know," I answered. "I've of it myself. It was a green light, about a of points on the port bow. It close."
"Perhaps their lamp's gone out," he suggested, after out hard into the night for a minute or so.
"Perhaps," I said.
I did not tell him that the light had been so close that, in the darkness, we should now have been able to see the ship herself.
"You're sure it was a light, and not a star?" he asked, doubtfully, after another long stare.
"Oh! no," I said. "It may have been the moon, now I come to think about it."
"Don't rot," he replied. "It's easy to make a mistake. What shall
I say to the Second Mate?"
"Tell him it's disappeared, of course!"
"Where to?" he asked.
"How the should I know?" I told him. "Don't ask questions!"
"All right, keep your in," he said, and to report to the
Second Mate.
Five minutes later, it might have been, I saw the light again. It was on the bow, and told me that she had up with her to being down. I did not wait a moment; but out to the Second Mate that there was a green light about four points on the port bow. By Jove! it must have been a close shave. The light did not to be more than about a hundred yards away. It was that we had not much way through the water.
"Now," I to myself, "the Second will see the thing. And perhaps
Mr. Blooming 'prentice will be able to give the star its proper name."
Even as the came into my head, the light and vanished; and
I the Second Mate's voice.
"Whereaway?" he was out.
"It's gone again, Sir," I answered.
A minute later, I him along the deck.
He the of the ladder.
"Where are you, Jessop?" he inquired.
"Here, Sir," I said, and to the top of the weather ladder.
He came up slowly on to the fo'cas'le head.
"What's this you've been out about a light?" he asked. "Just point out where it was you last saw it."
This I did, and he over to the port rail, and away into the night; but without anything.
"It's gone, Sir," I to him. "Though I've it twice now—once, about a of points on the bow, and this last time, away on the bow; but it times, almost at once."
"I don't it at all, Jessop," he said, in a puzzled voice.
"Are you sure it was a ship's light?"
"Yes, Sir. A green light. It was close."
"I don't understand," he said again. "Run and ask the 'prentice to pass you my night glasses. Be as as you can."
"i, i, Sir," I replied, and ran aft.
In less than a minute, I was with his binoculars; and, with them, he for some time at the sea to leeward.
All at once he them to his side, and on me with a question:
"Where's she gone to? If she's her as as all that, she must be close. We should be able to see her and sails, or her light, or her light, or something!"
"It's queer, Sir," I assented.
"Damned queer," he said. "So that I'm to think you've a mistake."
"No, Sir. I'm it was a light."
"Where's the ship then?" he asked.
"I can't say, Sir. That's just what's been me."
The Second said nothing in reply; but took a of quick across the fo'cas'le head—stopping at the port rail, and taking another look to through his night glasses. Perhaps a minute he there. Then, without a word, he the ladder, and away along the main to the poop.
"He's well puzzled," I to myself. "Or else he thinks I've been things." Either way, I he'd think that.
In a little, I to wonder whether, after all, he had any idea of what might be the truth. One minute, I would he had; and the next, I was just as sure that he nothing. I got one of my of myself it would not have been to have told him everything. It to me that he must have to make him to to me. And yet, I not by any means be certain. I might only have been making an of myself, in his eyes. Or set him I was dotty.
I was walking about the fo'cas'le head, like this, when I saw the light for the third time. It was very and big, and I see it move, as I watched. This again me that it must be very close.
"Surely," I thought, "the Second Mate must see it now, for himself."
I did not sing out this time, right away. I I would let the Second see for himself that I had not been mistaken. Besides, I was not going to its again, the I had spoken. For a minute, I it, and there was no of its disappearing. Every moment, I to the Second Mate's hail, that he had it at last; but none came.
I it no longer, and I ran to the rail, on the after part of the fo'cas'le head.
"Green light a little the beam, Sir!" I out, at the top of my voice.
But I had waited too long. Even as I shouted, the light and vanished.
I my and swore. The thing was making a of me. Yet, I had a that those had it just it disappeared; but this I was vain, directly I the Second's voice.
"Light be damned!" he shouted.
Then he his whistle, and one of the men ran aft, out of the fo'cas'le, to see what it was he wanted.
"Whose next look-out is it?" I him ask.
"Jaskett's, Sir."
"Then tell Jaskett to Jessop at once. Do you hear?"
"Yes, Sir," said the man, and came forrard.
In a minute, Jaskett up onto the fo'cas'le head.
"What's up, mate?" he asked sleepily.
"It's that of a Second Mate!" I said, savagely. "I've reported a light to him three times, and, the can't see it, he's sent you up to me!"
"Where is it, mate?" he inquired.
He looked at the dark sea.
"I don't see no light," he remarked, after a moments.
"No," I said. "It's gone."
"Eh?" he inquired.
"It's gone!" I repeated, irritably.
He and me silently, through the dark.
"I'd go an' 'ave a sleep, mate," he said, at length. "I've been that way meself. Ther's nothin' like a w'en like that."
"What!" I said. "Like what?"
"It's all right, mate. Yer'll be all right in mornin'. Don't worry 'bout me." His was sympathetic.
"Hell!" was all I said, and walked off the fo'cas'le head. I the old I was going silly.
"Have a sleep, by Jove!" I to myself. "I wonder who'd like having a sleep after what I've and today!"
I rotten, with no one what was the matter. I to be all alone, through the I had learnt. Then the came to me to go and talk the over with Tammy. I he would be able to understand, of course; and it would be such a relief.
On the impulse, I and aft, along the to the 'prentices' berth. As I the of the poop, I looked up and saw the dark shape of the Second Mate, over the rail above me.
"Who's that?" he asked.
"It's Jessop, Sir," I said.
"What do you want in this part of the ship?" he inquired.
"I'd come to speak to Tammy, Sir," I replied.
"You go along and turn-in," he said, not unkindly. "A sleep will do you more good than about. You know, you're to too much!"
"I'm sure I'm not, Sir! I'm perfectly well. I—"
"That will do!" he interrupted, sharply. "You go and have a sleep."
I gave a curse, under my breath, and slowly forrard. I was with being as if I were not sane.
"By God!" I said to myself. "Wait till the know what I know—just wait!"
I entered the fo'cas'le, through the port doorway, and across to my chest, and sat down. I angry and tired, and miserable.
Quoin and Plummer were close by, playing cards, and smoking. Stubbins in his bunk, them, and also smoking. As I sat down, he put his over the bunk-board, and me in a curious, way.
"What's with Second hoffìcer?" he asked, after a stare.
I looked at him, and the other two men looked up at me. I I should go off with a bang, if I did not say something, and I let out stiffly, telling them the whole business. Yet, I had to know that it was no good trying to things; so I just told them the plain, facts, and left as much alone as possible.
"Three times, you say?" said Stubbins when I had finished.
"Yes," I assented.
"An' Old Man sent from wheel this mornin', 'cause 'appened see a ship 'e couldn't," Plummer added in a tone.
"Yes," I said, again.
I I saw him look at Quoin, significantly; but Stubbins, I noticed, looked only at me.
"I Second thinks you're a colour," he remarked, after a pause.
"The Second Mate's a fool!" I said, with some bitterness. "A fool!"
"I hain't so sure about that," he replied. "It's him. I don't it myself—"
He into silence, and smoked.
"I carn't 'ow it is Second Mate didn't 'appen to spot it," Quoin said, in a puzzled voice.
It to me that Plummer him to be quiet. It looked as if
Plummer the Second Mate's opinion, and the idea me savage.
But Stubbins's next my attention.
"I don't it," he said, again; speaking with deliberation. "All same, Second should have not to have you look-hout."
He his head, slowly, his on my face.
"How do you mean?" I asked, puzzled; yet with a that the man more, perhaps, than I had thought.
"I what's Second so about?"
He took a at his pipe, it, and somewhat, over his bunk-board.
"Didn't he say nothin' you, after you came look-hout?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied; "he me going aft. He told me I was to too much. He said I'd come and a sleep."
"An' what did you say?"
"Nothing. I came forrard."
"Why didn't you bloomin' well him if he weren't doin' imaginin' when he sent us chasin' main, that of his?"
"I of it," I told him.
"Well, ought have."
He paused, and sat up in his bunk, and asked for a match.
As I passed him my box, Quoin looked up from his game.
"It might 'ave been a stowaway, know. Yer carn't say as it's been proved as it wasn't."
Stubbins passed the box to me, and on without noticing Quoin's remark:
"Told you to go an' have a snooze, did he? I don't what he's bluffin' at."
"How do you mean, bluffing?" I asked.
He his head, sagely.
"It's my he you saw that light, just as bloomin' well as I do."
Plummer looked up from his game, at this speech; but said nothing.
"Then you don't that I saw it?" I asked, with a surprise.
"Not me," he remarked, with assurance. "You hain't likely make that of mistake three times runnin'."
"No," I said. "I know I saw the light, right enough; but"—I a moment—"it's queer."
"It is queer!" he agreed. "It's queer! An' there's a of other happenin' this packet lately."
He was for a seconds. Then he spoke suddenly:
"It's not nat'ral, I'm sure of that much."
He took a of at his pipe, and in the silence, I Jaskett's voice, above us. He was the poop.
"Red light on the quarter, Sir," I him sing out.
"There you are," I said with a of my head. "That's about where that packet I spotted, ought to be by now. She couldn't our bows, so she up helm, and let us pass, and now she's up again and gone under our stern."
I got up from the chest, and to the door, the other three following. As we out on deck, I the Second Mate out, away aft, to know the of the light.
"By Jove! Stubbins," I said. "I the thing's gone again."
We ran to the side, in a body, and looked over; but there was no of a light in the astern.
"I carn't say as I see any light," said Quoin.
Plummer said nothing.
I looked up at the fo'cas'le head. There, I the of Jaskett. He was by the rail, with his hands up, his eyes, the place where he had last the light.
"Where's she got to, Jaskett?" I called out.
"I can't say, mate," he answered. "It's the most 'ellishly thing I've across. She were there as plain as me 'att one minnit, an' next she were gone—clean gone."
I to Plummer.
"What do you think about it, now?" I asked him.
"Well," he said. "I'll admit I at 'twere somethin' an' nothin'. I was mistaken; but it did see somethin'."
Away aft, we the of steps, along the deck.
"Ther Second's comin' for a hexplanation, Jaskett," Stubbins out. "You'd go an' breeks."
The Second Mate passed us, and up the ladder.
"What's up now, Jaskett?" he said quickly. "Where is this light? Neither the 'prentice I can see it!"
"Ther thing's clean gone, Sir," Jaskett replied.
"Gone!" the Second Mate said. "Gone! What do you mean?"
"She were there one minnit, Sir, as plain as me 'att, an' next, she'd gone."
"That's a yarn to tell me!" the Second replied. "You don't me to it, do you?"
"It's Gospel any'ow, Sir," Jaskett answered. "An' Jessop it just same."
He to have added that last part as an afterthought. Evidently, the old had his opinion as to my need for sleep.
"You're an old fool, Jaskett," the Second said, sharply. "And that idiot
Jessop has been into your old head."
He paused, an instant. Then he continued:
"What the devil's the with you all, that you've taken to this of game? You know very well that you saw no light! I sent Jessop off the look-out, and then you must go and start the same game."
"We 'aven't—" Jaskett started to say; but the Second him.
"Stow it!" he said, and and the ladder, us quickly, without a word.
"Doesn't look to me, Stubbins," I said, "as though the Second did we've the light."
"I hain't so sure," he answered. "He's a puzzler."
The of the watch passed away quietly; and at eight I to turn-in, for I was tired.
When we were called again for the four to eight watch on deck, I learnt that one of the men in the Mate's watch had a light, soon after we had gone below, and had reported it, only for it to immediately. This, I found, had twice, and the Mate had got so wild (being under the that the man was playing the fool) that he had nearly came to with him—finally ordering him off the look-out, and sending another man up in his place. If this last man saw the light, he took good not to let the Mate know; so that the had ended there.
And then, on the night, we had to talk about the of the lights, something else that from my mind all memory of the mist, and the extraordinary, it had to usher.
