"Though, from what I saw, it's evident that
_we're_ quite visible; so that it would be easy for them to see us, and
steer clear of us, even though we couldn't see them." "And we might run into something, and never see it?" he asked me,
following up the train of thought. "Yes," I said. "Only there's nothing to stop the other ship from getting
out of our way." "But if it wasn't a vessel?" he persisted. "It might be an iceberg, or a
rock, or even a derelict." "In that case," I said, putting it a bit flippantly, naturally, "we'd
probably damage it." He made no answer to this and for a few moments, we were quiet. Then he spoke abruptly, as though the idea had come suddenly to him. "Those lights the other night!" he said. "Were they a ship's lights?" "Yes," I replied. "Why?" "Why," he answered. "Don't you see, if they were really lights, we
_could_ see them?" "Well, I should think I ought to know that," I replied. "You seem to
forget that the Second Mate slung me off the look-out for daring to do
that very thing." "I don't mean that," he said. "Don't you see that if we could see them
at all, it showed that the atmosphere-thing wasn't round us then?" "Not necessarily," I answered. "It may have been nothing more than a
rift in it; though, of course, I may be all wrong. But, anyway, the fact
that the lights disappeared almost as soon as they were seen, shows that
it was very much round the ship." That made him feel a bit the way I did, and when next he spoke, his tone
had lost its hopefulness. "Then you think it'll be no use telling the Second Mate and the Skipper
anything?" he asked. "I don't know," I replied. "I've been thinking about it, and it can't do
any harm. I've a very good mind to." "I should," he said. "You needn't be afraid of anybody laughing at you,
now. It might do some good. You've seen more than anyone else." He stopped in his walk, and looked round. "Wait a minute," he said, and ran aft a few steps. I saw him look up at
the break of the poop; then he came back. "Come along now," he said. "The Old Man's up on the poop, talking to the
Second Mate. You'll never get a better chance." Still I hesitated; but he caught me by the sleeve, and almost dragged me
to the lee ladder. "All right," I said, when I got there. "All right, I'll come. Only I'm
hanged if I know what to say when I get there." "Just tell them you want to speak to them," he said. "They'll ask what
you want, and then you spit out all you know. They'll find it
interesting enough." "You'd better come too," I suggested. "You'll be able to back me up in
lots of things." "I'll come, fast enough," he replied. "You go up." I went up the ladder, and walked across to where the Skipper and the
Second Mate stood talking earnestly, by the rail. Tammy kept behind. As
I came near to them, I caught two or three words; though I attached no
meaning then to them. They were: "...send for him." Then the two of them
turned and looked at me, and the Second Mate asked what I wanted. "I want to speak to you and the Old M--Captain, Sir," I answered. "What is it, Jessop?" the Skipper inquired. "I scarcely know how to put it, Sir," I said. "It's--it's about these--
these things." "What things? Speak out, man," he said. "Well, Sir," I blurted out. "There's some dreadful thing or things come
aboard this ship, since we left port." I saw him give one quick glance at the Second Mate, and the Second
looked back. Then the Skipper replied. "How do you mean, come aboard?" he asked. "Out of the sea, Sir," I said. "I've seen them. So's Tammy, here." "Ah!" he exclaimed, and it seemed to me, from his face, that he was
understanding something better. "Out of the Sea!" Again he looked at the Second Mate; but the Second was staring at me. "Yes Sir," I said. "It's the _ship_. She's not safe! I've watched. I
think I understand a bit; but there's a lot I don't." I stopped. The Skipper had turned to the Second Mate. The Second nodded,
gravely. Then I heard him mutter, in a low voice, and the Old Man
replied; after which he turned to me again. "Look here, Jessop," he said. "I'm going to talk straight to you. You
strike me as being a cut above the ordinary shellback, and I think
you've sense enough to hold your tongue." "I've got my mate's ticket, Sir," I said, simply. Behind me, I heard Tammy give a little start. He had not known about it
until then. The Skipper nodded. "So much the better," he answered. "I may have to speak to you about
that, later on." He paused, and the Second Mate said something to him, in an undertone. "Yes," he said, as though in reply to what the Second had been saying. Then he spoke to me again. "You've seen things come out of the sea, you say?" he questioned. "Now
just tell me all you can remember, from the very beginning." I set to, and told him everything in detail, commencing with the strange
figure that had stepped aboard out of the sea, and continuing my yarn,
up to the things that had happened in that very watch. I stuck well to solid facts; and now and then he and the Second Mate
would look at one another, and nod. At the end, he turned to me with an
abrupt gesture. "You still hold, then, that you saw a ship the other morning, when I
sent you from the wheel?" he asked. "Yes, Sir," I said. "I most certainly do." "But you knew there wasn't any!" he said. "Yes, Sir," I replied, in an apologetic tone. "There was; and, if you
will let me, I believe that I can explain it a bit." "Well," he said. "Go on." Now that I knew he was willing to listen to me in a serious manner all
my funk of telling him had gone, and I went ahead and told him my ideas
about the mist, and the thing it seemed to have ushered, you know. I
finished up, by telling him how Tammy had worried me to come and tell
what I knew. "He thought then, Sir," I went on, "that you might wish to put into the
nearest port; but I told him that I didn't think you could, even if you
wanted to." "How's that?" he asked, profoundly interested. "Well, Sir," I replied. "If we're unable to see other vessels, we
shouldn't be able to see the land. You'd be piling the ship up, without
ever seeing where you were putting her." This view of the matter, affected the Old Man in an extraordinary
manner; as it did, I believe, the Second Mate. And neither spoke for a
moment. Then the Skipper burst out. "By Gad! Jessop," he said. "If you're right, the Lord have mercy on us." He thought for a couple of seconds. Then he spoke again, and I could see
that he was pretty well twisted up:

"My God!... if you're right!" The Second Mate spoke. "The men mustn't know, Sir," he warned him. "It'd be a mess if they
did!" "Yes," said the Old Man. He spoke to me. "Remember that, Jessop," he said. "Whatever you do, don't go yarning
about this, forrard." "No, Sir," I replied. "And you too, boy," said the Skipper. "Keep your tongue between your
teeth. We're in a bad enough mess, without your making it worse. Do you
hear?" "Yes, Sir," answered Tammy. The Old Man turned to me again.