"
"It isn't enough for me," I said doggedly. "It hadn't any head or
face, but it looked in! It's dark out there. How could you see?"
For reply, he leaned over and, turning down the lamp, blew it out.
We sat in the smoking darkness, and slowly, out of the thick night,
the window outlined itself. I could see it distinctly. But how,
white and faceless, had it stared in at the window, or reached
through the bars, as Singleton declared it had done, and waved a
fingerless hand at us?
He was in a state of mental and physical collapse, and begged so
pitifully not to be left, that at last I told him I would take him
with me, on his promise to remain in a chair until dawn, and to go
back without demur. He sat near me, amidships, huddled down among
the cushions of one of the wicker chairs, not sleeping, but staring
straight out, motionless.
With the first light of dawn Burns relieved me, and I went forward
with Singleton. He dropped into his bunk, and was asleep almost
immediately. Then, inch by inch, I went over the deck for footprints,
for any clue to what, under happier circumstances, I should have
considered a ghastly hoax. But the deck was slippery and sodden,
the rail dripping, and between the davits where the jolly-boat had
swung was stretched a line with a shirt of Burns's hung on it,
absurdly enough, to dry.
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