peremptorily dismissed my officers from duty, and by my own act had
prevented the anchor-watch being formally set and things properly

attended to. I asked myself whether it was wise ever to interfere
with the established routine of duties even from the kindest of

motives. My action might have made me appear eccentric. Goodness
only knew how that absurdly whiskered mate would "account" for my

conduct, and what the whole ship thought of that informality of
their new captain. I was vexed with myself.

Not from compunction certainly, but, as it were mechanically, I
proceeded to get the ladder in myself. Now a side-ladder of that

sort is a light affair and comes in easily, yet my vigorous tug,
which should have brought it flying on board, merely recoiled upon

my body in a totallyunexpected jerk. What the devil! . . . I was
so astounded by the immovableness of that ladder that I remained

stock-still, trying to account for it to myself like that imbecile
mate of mine. In the end, of course, I put my head over the rail.

The side of the ship made an opaque belt of shadow on the darkling
glassy shimmer of the sea. But I saw at once something elongated

and pale floating very close to the ladder. Before I could form a
guess a faint flash of phosphorescent light, which seemed to issue

suddenly from the naked body of a man, flickered in the sleeping
water with the elusive, silent play of summer lightning in a night

sky. With a gasp I saw revealed to my stare a pair of feet, the
long legs, a broad livid back immersed right up to the neck in a

greenish cadaverous glow. One hand, awash, clutched the bottom
rung of the ladder. He was complete but for the head. A headless

corpse! The cigar dropped out of my gaping mouth with a tiny plop
and a short hiss quite audible in the absolutestillness of all

things under heaven. At that I suppose he raised up his face, a
dimly pale oval in the shadow of the ship's side. But even then I

could only barely make out down there the shape of his black-haired
head. However, it was enough for the horrid, frost-bound sensation

which had gripped me about the chest to pass off. The moment of
vain exclamations was past, too. I only climbed on the spare spar

and leaned over the rail as far as I could, to bring my eyes nearer
to that mystery floating alongside.

As he hung by the ladder, like a resting swimmer, the sea-lightning
played about his limbs at every stir; and he appeared in it

ghastly, silvery, fish-like. He remained as mute as a fish, too.
He made no motion to get out of the water, either. It was

inconceivable that he should not attempt to come on board, and
strangely troubling to suspect that perhaps he did not want to.

And my first words were prompted by just that troubled incertitude.
"What's the matter?" I asked in my ordinary tone, speaking down to

the face upturned exactly under mine.
"Cramp," it answered, no louder. Then slightlyanxious, "I say, no

need to call any one."
"I was not going to," I said.

"Are you alone on deck?"
"Yes."

I had somehow the impression that he was on the point of letting go
the ladder to swim away beyond my ken - mysterious as he came.

But, for the moment, this being appearing as if he had risen from
the bottom of the sea (it was certainly the nearest land to the

ship) wanted only to know the time. I told him. And he, down
there, tentatively:

"I suppose your captain's turned in?"
"I am sure he isn't," I said.

He seemed to struggle with himself, for I heard something like the
low, bitter murmur of doubt. "What's the good?" His next words

came out with a hesitating effort.
"Look here, my man. Could you call him out quietly?"

I thought the time had come to declare myself.
"I am the captain."

I heard a "By Jove!" whispered at the level of the water. The
phosphorescence flashed in the swirl of the water all about his

limbs, his other hand seized the ladder.
"My name's Leggatt."

The voice was calm and resolute. A good voice. The self-
possession of that man had somehow induced a corresponding state in

myself. It was very quietly that I remarked:
"You must be a good swimmer."

"Yes. I've been in the water practically since nine o'clock. The
question for me now is whether I am to let go this ladder and go on

swimming till I sink from exhaustion, or - to come on board here."
I felt this was no mere formula of desperate speech, but a real

alternative in the view of a strong soul. I should have gathered
from this that he was young; indeed, it is only the young who are

ever confronted by such clear issues. But at the time it was pure
intuition on my part. A mysteriouscommunication was established

already between us two - in the face of that silent, darkened
tropical sea. I was young, too; young enough to make no comment.

The man in the water began suddenly to climb up the ladder, and I
hastened away from the rail to fetch some clothes.

Before entering the cabin I stood still, listening in the lobby at
the foot of the stairs. A faint snore came through the closed door

of the chief mate's room. The second mate's door was on the hook,
but the darkness in there was absolutely soundless. He, too, was

young and could sleep like a stone. Remained the steward, but he
was not likely to wake up before he was called. I got a sleeping-

suit out of my room and, coming back on deck, saw the naked man
from the sea sitting on the main-hatch, glimmering white in the

darkness, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. In a
moment he had concealed his damp body in a sleeping-suit of the

same grey-stripe pattern as the one I was wearing and followed me
like my double on the poop. Together we moved right aft,

barefooted, silent.
"What is it?" I asked in a deadened voice, taking the lighted lamp

out of the binnacle, and raising it to his face.
"An ugly business."

He had rather regular features; a good mouth; light eyes under
somewhat heavy, dark eyebrows; a smooth, square forehead; no growth

on his cheeks; a small, brown moustache, and a well-shaped, round
chin. His expression was concentrated, meditative, under the

inspecting light of the lamp I held up to his face; such as a man
thinking hard in solitude might wear. My sleeping-suit was just

right for his size. A well-knit young fellow of twenty-five at
most. He caught his lower lip with the edge of white, even teeth.

"Yes," I said, replacing the lamp in the binnacle. The warm, heavy
tropical night closed upon his head again.

"There's a ship over there," he murmured.
"Yes, I know. The Sephora. Did you know of us?"

"Hadn't the slightest idea. I am the mate of her - " He paused
and corrected himself. "I should say I WAS."

"Aha! Something wrong?"
"Yes. Very wrong indeed. I've killed a man."

"What do you mean? Just now?"
"No, on the passage. Weeks ago. Thirty-nine south. When I say a

man - "
"Fit of temper," I suggested, confidently.

The shadowy, dark head, like mine, seemed to nod imperceptibly
above the ghostly grey of my sleeping-suit. It was, in the night,

as though I had been faced by my own reflection in the depths of a
sombre and immense mirror.

"A pretty thing to have to own up to for a Conway boy," murmured my
double, distinctly.