that there was anything in the yarns about the ship.

At first he was inclined to be a bit offish; but, presently, he came
round, and told me that he did not know of any particular incident which
could be called unusual in the sense in which I meant. Yet that, at the
same time, there were lots of little things which, if you put them
together, made you think a bit. For instance, she always made such long
passages and had so much dirty weather--nothing but that and calms and
head winds. Then, other things happened; sails that he knew, himself,
had been properly stowed, were always blowing adrift _at night_. And
then he said a thing that surprised me.

"There's too many bloomin' shadders about this 'ere packet; they gets
onter yer nerves like nothin' as ever I seen before in me nat'ral."

He blurted it all out in a heap, and I turned round and looked at him.

"Too many shadows!" I said. "What on earth do you mean?" But he refused
to explain himself or tell me anything further--just shook his head,
stupidly, when I questioned him. He seemed to have taken a sudden, sulky
fit. I felt certain that he was acting dense, purposely. I believe the
truth of the matter is that he was, in a way, ashamed of having let
himself go like he had, in speaking out his thoughts about "shadders."
That type of man may think things at times; but he doesn't often put
them into words. Anyhow, I saw it was no use asking any further
questions; so I let the matter drop there. Yet, for several days
afterwards, I caught myself wondering, at times, what the fellow had
meant by "shadders."

We left 'Frisco next day, with a fine, fair wind, that seemed a bit like