for, as I have said, there were further developments.

The three following nights passed quietly; and then, on the fourth, all
those curious signs and hints culminated suddenly in something
extraordinarily grim. Yet, everything had been so subtle and intangible,
and, indeed, so was the affair itself, that only those who had actually
come in touch with the invading fear, seemed really capable of
comprehending the terror of the thing. The men, for the most part, began
to say the ship was unlucky, and, of course, as usual! there was some
talk of there being a Jonah in the ship. Still, I cannot say that none
of the men realised there was anything horrible and frightening in it
all; for I am sure that some did, a little; and I think Stubbins was
certainly one of them; though I feel certain that he did not, at that
time, you know, grasp a quarter of the real significance that underlay
the several queer matters that had disturbed our nights. He seemed to
fail, somehow, to grasp the element of personal danger that, to me, was
already plain. He lacked sufficient imagination, I suppose, to piece the
things together--to trace the natural sequence of the events, and their
development. Yet I must not forget, of course, that he had no knowledge
of those two first incidents. If he had, perhaps he might have stood
where I did. As it was, he had not seemed to reach out at all, you know,
not even in the matter of Tom and the fore royal. Now, however, after
the thing I am about to tell you, he seemed to see a little way into the
darkness, and realise possibilities.

I remember the fourth night, well. It was a clear, star-lit, moonless
sort of night: at least, I think there was no moon; or, at any rate, the
moon could have been little more than a thin crescent, for it was near
the dark time.