the side, which looked like a leaf which could hang down in case of
necessity. A trunk stood opposite the door, with the open lid projecting
upward out of a mass of sand. Upon the wall there hung the collar of a
coat and part of the shoulders, the rest having apparently fallen away
from decay. The color of the coat could still be distinguished; it was
red, and the epaulets showed that it had belonged to a British officer.

Brandon on entering took in all these details at a glance, and then his
eyes were drawn to the berth at the end of the room, where that Thing
lay whose presence he had felt and feared, and which he knew by an
internal conviction must be here.

There It awaited him, on the berth. Sand had covered it, like a
coverlet, up to the neck, while beyond that protruded the head. It was
turned toward him: a bony, skeleton head, whose hollow cavities seemed
not altogether vacancy but rather dark eyes which looked gloomily at
him--dark eyes fixed, motionless; which had been thus fixed through the
long years, watching wistfully for him, expecting his entrance through
that doorway. And this was the Being who had assisted him to the shore,
and who had thrown off the covering of sand with which he had concealed
himself, so as to bring him here before him. Brandon stood motionless,
mute. The face was turned toward him--that face which is at once human
and yet most frightful since it is the face of Death--the face of a
skeleton. The jaws had fallen apart, and that fearful grin which is
fixed on the fleshless face here seemed like an effort at a smile of
welcome.

The hair still clung to that head, and hung down over the fleshless
forehead, giving it more the appearance of Death in life, and lending a
new horror to that which already pervaded this Dweller in the Ship.