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?"