You see, I could only eat plants and leaves and such fruit as I came
across; but I'd learnt as much as I could of the local botany in the
intervals." "Was it worth while?" I asked. "I think the first failure and its result
would have satisfied me." "Yes," he said slowly, "it was worth while. You see, my wife was waiting
for me at home, and I wanted to see her again very badly--you don't
know how badly." "I think I can imagine," I said. "Because there is a girl waiting for me
too at home." "I saw her before she died," he continued. "Died?" I said. "Yes," he answered. "She was dying when I reached home at last, but I
was with her at the end. That was something, wasn't it?" I do hate people to tell me this sort of thing. Not because I do not
feel sorry for them; on the contrary, I feel so sorry that I absolutely
fail to find words to express my sympathy. I tried, however, to show it
in other ways, by the attentions I paid him and by anticipating his
every wish. Yet there were many things that were astonishing about his actions,
things that I wonder now I did not realise must have been impossible for
him to do for himself, and that yet were done. But he was so
surprisingly dexterous with his lips, and feet too, when he was in his
cabin that I suppose I put them down to that. I remember waking up one night and looking out of my bunk to see him
standing on the floor. The cabin was only faintly lit by a moonbeam
which found its way through the porthole. I could not see clearly, but I
fancied that he walked to the door and opened it, and closed it behind
him. He did it all very quickly, as quickly as I could have done it. As
I say, I was very sleepy, but the sight of the door opening and shutting
like that woke me thoroughly. Sitting up I shouted at him. He heard me and opened the door again, easily, too, much more easily
than he seemed to be able to shut it when he saw me looking at him. "Hullo! Awake, old chap?" he said. "What is it?" "Er--nothing," I said. "Or rather I suppose I was only half awake; but
you seemed to open that door so easily that it quite startled me." "One does not always like to let others see the shifts to which one has
to resort," was all the answer he gave me. But I worried over it. The thing bothered me, because he had made no
attempt to explain. That was not the only thing I noticed. Two or three days later we were sitting together on deck. I had offered
to read to him. I noticed that he got up out of his chair. Suddenly I
saw the chair move. It gave me a great shock, for the chair twisted
apparently of its own volition, so that when he sat down again the
sunlight was at his back and not in his eyes, as I knew it had been
previously. But I reasoned with myself and managed to satisfy myself
that he must have turned the chair round with his foot. It was just
possible that he could have done so, for it had one of those light
wicker-work seats. We had a lovely voyage for three-quarters of the way, and the sea was as
calm as any duck-pond. But that was all altered when we passed Cape
Finisterre. I have done a lot of knocking about on the ocean one way and
another, but I never saw the Bay of Biscay deserve its reputation
better. I'd much rather see what is going on than be cooped up below, and after
lunch I told Bob I was going up on deck. "I'll only stay there for a bit," I said. "You make yourself comfortable
down here." I filled his pipe, put it in his mouth, and gave him a match; then I
left him. I made my way up and down the deck for a time, clutching hold of
everything handy, and rather enjoyed it, though the waves drenched me to
the skin. Presently I saw Masters come out of the companion-way and make his way
very skilfully towards me. Of course it was fearfully dangerous for him. I staggered towards him, and, putting my lips to his ear, shouted to him
to go below at once. "Oh, I shall be all right!" he said, and laughed. "You'll be drowned--drowned," I screamed. "There was a wave just now
that--well, if I hadn't been able to cling on with both hands like grim
death, I should have gone overboard. Go below." He laughed again and shook his head. And then what I dreaded happened. A vast mountain of green water lifted
up its bulk and fell upon us in a ravening cataract. I clutched at
Masters, but trying to save him and myself handicapped me badly. The
strength of that mass of water was terrible. It seemed to snatch at
everything with giant hands, and drag all with it. It tossed a hen-coop
high, and carried it through the rails. I felt the grip of my right hand loosen, and the next instant was
carried, still clutching Masters with my left, towards that gap in the
bulwark. I managed to seize the end of the broken rail. It held us for a moment,
then gave, and for a moment I hung sheer over the vessel's side. In that instant I felt fingers tighten on my arm, tighten till they bit
into the flesh, and I was pulled back into safety. Together we staggered back, and got below somehow. I was trembling like
a leaf, and the sweat dripped from me. I almost screamed aloud. It was not that I was frightened of death. I've seen too much of that in
many parts of the earth to dread it greatly. It was the thought of those
fingers tightening on me where no fingers were. Masters did not speak a word, nor did I, until we found ourselves in the
cabin. I tore the wet clothes off me and turned my arm to the mirror. I knew I
could not have been mistaken when I felt them. There on the upper arm, above the line of sunburn that one gets from
working with sleeves rolled up, there on the white skin showed _the red
marks of four slender fingers and a thumb_! I sat down suddenly at sight
of them, and pulling open a drawer, found a flask of neat brandy, and
gulped it down, emptied it in one gulp. Then I turned to him and pointed to the marks. "In God's name, how came these here?" I said. "What--what happened up
there on deck?" He looked at me very gravely. "I saved you," he said, "or rather I didn't, for I could not. But _she_
did." "What do you mean?" I stammered. "Let me get these clothes off," he said, "and some dry ones on; and I'll
tell you." Words fail to describe my feelings as I watched the clothes come off him
and dry ones go on just as if hands were arranging them. I sat and shuddered. I tried to close my eyes, but the weird, unnatural
sight drew them as a lodestone. "I'm sorry that you should have had this shock," he said. "I know what
it must have been like, though it was not so bad for me when they seemed
to come, for they came gradually as time went on." "What came gradually?" I asked. "Why, these arms! They're what I'm telling you about. You asked me to
tell you, I thought?" "Did I?" I said. "I don't know what I'm saying or asking. I think I'm
going mad, quite mad." "No," he said, "you're as sane as I am, only when you come across
something strange, unique for that matter, you are naturally terrified. Well, it was like this.