I put on my clothes, and followed him quietly to the sweet, cool air
above. It was a beautiful clear night, but, from his manner, I looked
nervously around for some cause of alarm. I saw nothing. The deck was
deserted, except for the solitary figure at the wheel.

"Look at him," whispered Bill, bending a contorted face to mine.

I walked aft a few steps, and Bill followed slowly. Then I saw that Jem
Dadd was leaning forward clumsily on the wheel, with his hands clenched
on the spokes.

"He's asleep," said I, stopping short.

Bill breathed hard. "He's in a queer sleep," said he; "kind o' trance
more like. Go closer."

I took fast hold of Bill's sleeve, and we both went. The light of the
stars was sufficient to show that Dadd's face was very white, and that
his dim, black eyes were wide open, and staring in a very strange and
dreadful manner straight before him.

"Dadd," said I, softly, "Dadd!"

There was no reply, and, with a view of arousing him, I tapped one sinewy
hand as it gripped the wheel, and even tried to loosen it.

He remained immovable, and, suddenly with a great cry, my courage
deserted me, and Bill and I fairly bolted down into the cabin and woke
the skipper.