After supper he went on to the poop once more, and I with him. The
night was dark and very still, save for the melancholy soughing of
the wind among the spars. A thick cloud was coming up from the
northwest, and the ragged tentacles which it threw out in front of
it were drifting across the face of the moon, which only shone
now and again through a rift in the wrack. The Captain paced
rapidly backwards and forwards, and then seeing me still dogging
him, he came across and hinted that he thought I should be better
below--which, I need hardly say, had the effect of strengthening my
resolution to remain on deck.

I think he forgot about my presence after this, for he stood
silently leaning over the taffrail, and peering out across the
great desert of snow, part of which lay in shadow, while part
glittered mistily in the moonlight. Several times I could see by
his movements that he was referring to his watch, and once he
muttered a short sentence, of which I could only catch the one word
"ready." I confess to having felt an eerie feeling creeping over
me as I watched the loom of his tall figure through the darkness,
and noted how completely he fulfilled the idea of a man who is
keeping a tryst. A tryst with whom? Some vague perception began
to dawn upon me as I pieced one fact with another, but I was
utterly unprepared for the sequel.

By the sudden intensity of his attitude I felt that he saw
something. I crept up behind him. He was staring with an eager
questioning gaze at what seemed to be a wreath of mist, blown
swiftly in a line with the ship. It was a dim, nebulous body,
devoid of shape, sometimes more, sometimes less apparent, as the