side of the deck.

"Nothing!" I replied, shortly; for I was too bewildered then, at what my
eyes had just shown me, to say any more. I wanted to think.

The old shellback glanced at me; but only muttered something, and went
on his way aft.

For a minute, perhaps, I stood there, watching; but could see nothing.
Then I walked slowly aft, as far as the after end of the deck house.
From there, I could see most of the main deck; but nothing showed,
except, of course, the moving shadows of the ropes and spars and sails,
as they swung to and fro in the moonlight.

The old chap who had just come off the look-out, had returned forrard
again, and I was alone on that part of the deck. And then, all at once,
as I stood peering into the shadows to leeward, I remembered what
Williams had said about there being too many "shadders." I had been
puzzled to understand his real meaning, then. I had no difficulty _now_.
There _were_ too many shadows. Yet, shadows or no shadows, I realised
that for my own peace of mind, I must settle, once and for all, whether
the thing I had seemed to see stepping aboard out of the ocean, had been
a reality, or simply a phantom, as you might say, of my imagination. My
reason said it was nothing more than imagination, a rapid dream--I must
have dozed; but something deeper than reason told me that this was not
so. I put it to the test, and went straight in amongst the shadows--
There was nothing.

I grew bolder. My common sense told me I must have fancied it all. I
walked over to the mainmast, and looked behind the pinrail that partly