When first I noticed it, like everybody else aboard, I took it to be
some form of haze, due to the heat of the sun; for it was broad daylight
when the thing came. The wind had died away to a light breeze, and I was working at the main
rigging, along with Plummer, putting on seizings. "Looks as if 'twere middlin' 'ot," he remarked. "Yes," I said; and, for the time, took no further notice. Presently he spoke again:

"It's gettin' quite 'azy!" and his tone showed he was surprised. I glanced up, quickly. At first, I could see nothing. Then, I saw what
he meant. The air had a wavy, strange, unnatural appearance; something
like the heated air over the top of an engine's funnel, that you can
often see when no smoke is coming out. "Must be the heat," I said. "Though I don't remember ever seeing
anything just like it before." "Nor me," Plummer agreed. It could not have been a minute later when I looked up again, and was
astonished to find that the whole ship was surrounded by a thinnish haze
that quite hid the horizon. "By Jove! Plummer," I said. "How queer!" "Yes," he said, looking round. "I never seen anythin' like it before--
not in these parts." "Heat wouldn't do that!" I said. "N--no," he said, doubtfully. We went on with our work again--occasionally exchanging an odd word or
two. Presently, after a little time of silence, I bent forward and asked
him to pass me up the spike. He stooped and picked it up from the deck,
where it had tumbled. As he held it out to me, I saw the stolid
expression on his face, change suddenly to a look of complete surprise. He opened his mouth. "By gum!" he said. "It's gone." I turned quickly, and looked. And so it had--the whole sea showing clear
and bright, right away to the horizon. I stared at Plummer, and he stared at me. "Well, I'm blowed!" he exclaimed. I do not think I made any reply; for I had a sudden, queer feeling that
the thing was not right. And then, in a minute, I called myself an ass;
but I could not really shake off the feeling. I had another good look at
the sea. I had a vague idea that something was different. The sea looked
brighter, somehow, and the air clearer, I thought, and I missed
something; but not much, you know. And it was not until a couple of days
later, that I knew that it was several vessels on the horizon, which had
been quite in sight before the mist, and now were gone. During the rest of the watch, and indeed all day, there was no further
sign of anything unusual. Only, when the evening came (in the second
dog-watch it was) I saw the mist rise faintly--the setting sun shining
through it, dim and unreal. I knew then, as a certainty, that it was not caused by heat. And that was the beginning of it. The next day, I kept a pretty close watch, during all my time on deck;
but the atmosphere remained clear. Yet, I heard from one of the chaps in
the Mate's watch, that it had been hazy during part of the time he was
at the wheel. "Comin' an' goin', like," he described it to me, when I questioned him
about it. He thought it might be heat. But though I knew otherwise, I did not contradict him. At that time, no
one, not even Plummer, seemed to think very much of the matter. And when
I mentioned it to Tammy, and asked him whether he'd noticed it, he only
remarked that it must have been heat, or else the sun drawing up water. I let it stay at that; for there was nothing to be gained by suggesting
that the thing had more to it. Then, on the following day, something happened that set me wondering
more than ever, and showed me how right I had been in feeling the mist
to be something unnatural. It was in this way. Five bells, in the eight to twelve morning watch, had gone. I was at the
wheel. The sky was perfectly clear--not a cloud to be seen, even on the
horizon. It was hot, standing at the wheel; for there was scarcely any
wind, and I was feeling drowsy. The Second Mate was down on the maindeck
with the men, seeing about some job he wanted done; so that I was on the
poop alone. Presently, with the heat, and the sun beating right down on to me, I
grew thirsty; and, for want of something better, I pulled out a bit of
plug I had on me, and bit off a chew; though, as a rule, it is not a
habit of mine. After a little, naturally enough, I glanced round for the
spittoon; but discovered that it was not there. Probably it had been
taken forrard when the decks were washed, to give it a scrub. So, as
there was no one on the poop, I left the wheel, and stepped aft to the
taffrail. It was thus that I came to see something altogether unthought
of--a full-rigged ship, close-hauled on the port tack, a few hundred
yards on our starboard quarter. Her sails were scarcely filled by the
light breeze, and flapped as she lifted to the swell of the sea. She
appeared to have very little way through the water, certainly not more
than a knot an hour. Away aft, hanging from the gaff-end, was a string
of flags. Evidently, she was signalling to us. All this, I saw in a
flash, and I just stood and stared, astonished. I was astonished because
I had not seen her earlier. In that light breeze, I knew that she must
have been in sight for at least a couple of hours. Yet I could think of
nothing rational to satisfy my wonder. There she was--of that much, I
was certain. And yet, how had she come there without my seeing her,
before? All at once, as I stood, staring, I heard the wheel behind me, spin
rapidly. Instinctively, I jumped to get hold of the spokes; for I did
not want the steering gear jammed. Then I turned again to have another
look at the other ship; but, to my utter bewilderment, _there was no
sign of her_--nothing but the calm ocean, spreading away to the distant
horizon. I blinked my eyelids a bit, and pushed the hair off my
forehead. Then, I stared again; but there was no vestige of her--
nothing, you know; and absolutely nothing unusual, except a faint,
tremulous quiver in the air. And the blank surface of the sea reaching
everywhere to the empty horizon. Had she foundered? I asked myself, naturally enough; and, for the
moment, I really wondered. I searched round the sea for wreckage; but
there was nothing, not even an odd hen-coop, or a piece of deck
furniture; and so I threw away that idea, as impossible. Then, as I stood, I got another thought, or, perhaps, an intuition and I
asked myself seriously whether this disappearing ship might not be in
some way connected with the other queer things. It occurred to me then,
that the vessel I had seen was nothing real, and, perhaps, did not exist
outside of my own brain. I considered the idea, gravely. It helped to
explain the thing, and I could think of nothing else that would. Had she
been real, I felt sure that others aboard us would have been bound to
have seen her long before I had--I got a bit muddled there, with trying
to think it out; and then, abruptly, the reality of the other ship, came
back to me--every rope and sail and spar, you know.