And lo! what was this that he saw? What was this that came gliding
slowly, silently out of the dusk, out of the whiteness, itself whiter
than the river fog, more shadowy than the films of twilight? The child
held his breath, and his heart beat fast, fast. A vessel, or the ghost
of a vessel? Nearer and nearer it came, and now he could see masts and
spars, sails spread to catch the faint breeze, gleaming brass-work about
the decks. A vessel, surely; yet,--what was that? The fog lifted for a
moment, or else his eyes grew better used to the dimness, and he saw a
strange thing. On the prow of the vessel, which now was seen to be a
schooner, stood a figure; a statue, was it? Surely it was a statue of
bronze, like the Soldiers' Monument, leaning against the mast, with
folded arms.

Nearer! Fear seized the boy, for he thought the statue had eyes like
real eyes, and he saw them move, as if looking from right to left; the
whites glistened, the dark balls rolled from side to side. The child
stood still, feeling as if he had called up this phantom out of his own
thoughts; perhaps in another minute it would fade away into the fog, as
it had come, and leave only the flowing tide and the shrouded banks on
either side!

Nearer! and now the bronze figure lifted its arm, slowly, silently, and
pointed at the boy. But this was more than flesh and blood could stand;
little John uttered a choking cry, and turning his back on the awful
portent, ran home as fast as he could lay foot to ground. And on seeing
this the bronze figure laughed, and its teeth glistened, even as the
eyes had done.