Then, other things happened; sails that he knew, himself,
had been properly stowed, were always blowing adrift _at night_. And
then he said a thing that surprised me. "There's too many bloomin' shadders about this 'ere packet; they gets
onter yer nerves like nothin' as ever I seen before in me nat'ral." He blurted it all out in a heap, and I turned round and looked at him. "Too many shadows!" I said. "What on earth do you mean?" But he refused
to explain himself or tell me anything further--just shook his head,
stupidly, when I questioned him. He seemed to have taken a sudden, sulky
fit. I felt certain that he was acting dense, purposely. I believe the
truth of the matter is that he was, in a way, ashamed of having let
himself go like he had, in speaking out his thoughts about "shadders." That type of man may think things at times; but he doesn't often put
them into words. Anyhow, I saw it was no use asking any further
questions; so I let the matter drop there. Yet, for several days
afterwards, I caught myself wondering, at times, what the fellow had
meant by "shadders." We left 'Frisco next day, with a fine, fair wind, that seemed a bit like
putting the stopper on the yarns I had heard about the ship's ill luck. And yet--


He hesitated a moment, and then went on again. For the first couple of weeks out, nothing unusual happened, and the
wind still held fair. I began to feel that I had been rather lucky,
after all, in the packet into which I had been shunted. Most of the
other fellows gave her a good name, and there was a pretty general
opinion growing among the crowd, that it was all a silly yarn about her
being haunted. And then, just when I was settling down to things,
something happened that opened my eyes no end. It was in the eight to twelve watch, and I was sitting on the steps, on
the starboard side, leading up to the fo'cas'le head. The night was fine
and there was a splendid moon. Away aft, I heard the timekeeper strike
four bells, and the look-out, an old fellow named Jaskett, answered him. As he let go the bell lanyard, he caught sight of me, where I sat
quietly, smoking. He leant over the rail, and looked down at me. "That you, Jessop?" he asked. "I believe it is," I replied. "We'd 'ave our gran'mothers an' all the rest of our petticoated
relash'ns comin' to sea, if 'twere always like this," he remarked,
reflectively--indicating, with a sweep of his pipe and hand, the
calmness of the sea and sky. I saw no reason for denying that, and he continued:

"If this ole packet is 'aunted, as some on 'em seems to think, well all
as I can say is, let me 'ave the luck to tumble across another of the
same sort. Good grub, an' duff fer Sundays, an' a decent crowd of 'em
aft, an' everythin' comfertable like, so as yer can feel yer knows where
yer are. As fer 'er bein' 'aunted, that's all 'ellish nonsense. I've
comed 'cross lots of 'em before as was said to be 'aunted, an' so some
on 'em was; but 'twasn't with ghostesses. One packet I was in, they was
that bad yer couldn't sleep a wink in yer watch below, until yer'd 'ad
every stitch out yer bunk an' 'ad a reg'lar 'unt. Sometimes--" At that
moment, the relief, one of the ordinary seamen, went up the other ladder
on to the fo'cas'le head, and the old chap turned to ask him "Why the
'ell" he'd not relieved him a bit smarter. The ordinary made some reply;
but what it was, I did not catch; for, abruptly, away aft, my rather
sleepy gaze had lighted on something altogether extraordinary and
outrageous. It was nothing less than the form of a man stepping inboard
over the starboard rail, a little abaft the main rigging. I stood up,
and caught at the handrail, and stared. Behind me, someone spoke. It was the look-out, who had come down off the
fo'cas'le head, on his way aft to report the name of his relief to the
second mate. "What is it, mate?" he asked, curiously, seeing my intent attitude. The thing, whatever it was, had disappeared into the shadows on the lee
side of the deck. "Nothing!" I replied, shortly; for I was too bewildered then, at what my
eyes had just shown me, to say any more. I wanted to think. The old shellback glanced at me; but only muttered something, and went
on his way aft. For a minute, perhaps, I stood there, watching; but could see nothing. Then I walked slowly aft, as far as the after end of the deck house. From there, I could see most of the main deck; but nothing showed,
except, of course, the moving shadows of the ropes and spars and sails,
as they swung to and fro in the moonlight. The old chap who had just come off the look-out, had returned forrard
again, and I was alone on that part of the deck. And then, all at once,
as I stood peering into the shadows to leeward, I remembered what
Williams had said about there being too many "shadders." I had been
puzzled to understand his real meaning, then. I had no difficulty _now_. There _were_ too many shadows. Yet, shadows or no shadows, I realised
that for my own peace of mind, I must settle, once and for all, whether
the thing I had seemed to see stepping aboard out of the ocean, had been
a reality, or simply a phantom, as you might say, of my imagination. My
reason said it was nothing more than imagination, a rapid dream--I must
have dozed; but something deeper than reason told me that this was not
so. I put it to the test, and went straight in amongst the shadows--
There was nothing. I grew bolder. My common sense told me I must have fancied it all. I
walked over to the mainmast, and looked behind the pinrail that partly
surrounded it, and down into the shadow of the pumps; but here again was
nothing. Then I went in under the break of the poop. It was darker under
there than out on deck. I looked up both sides of the deck, and saw that
they were bare of anything such as I looked for. The assurance was
comforting. I glanced at the poop ladders, and remembered that nothing
could have gone up there, without the Second Mate or the Time-keeper
seeing it. Then I leant my back up against the bulkshead, and thought
the whole matter over, rapidly, sucking at my pipe, and keeping my
glance about the deck. I concluded my think, and said "No!" out loud. Then something occurred to me, and I said "Unless--" and went over to
the starboard bulwarks, and looked over and down into the sea; but there
was nothing but sea; and so I turned and made my way forrard. My common
sense had triumphed, and I was convinced that my imagination had been
playing tricks with me. I reached the door on the portside, leading into the fo'cas'le, and was
about to enter, when something made me look behind. As I did so, I had a
shaker. Away aft, a dim, shadowy form stood in the wake of a swaying
belt of moonlight, that swept the deck a bit abaft the main-mast. It was the same figure that I had just been attributing to my fancy. I
will admit that I felt more than startled; I was quite a bit frightened. I was convinced now that it was no mere imaginary thing. It was a human
figure.