The Second Mate reached me, and I pointed, dumbly; and yet, as I did so,
it was with the knowledge that _he_ would not be able to see what I saw.
(Queer, wasn't it?) And then, almost in a breath, I lost sight of the
thing, and became aware that Tammy was hugging my knees.
The Second continued to stare at the log-reel for a brief instant; then
he turned to me, with a sneer.
"Been asleep, the pair of you, I suppose!" Then, without waiting for my
denial, he told Tammy to go to hell out of it and stop his noise, or
he'd boot him off the poop.
After that, he walked forward to the break of the poop, and lit his
pipe, again--walking forward and aft every few minutes, and eyeing me,
at times, I thought, with a strange, half-doubtful, half-puzzled look.
Later, as soon as I was relieved, I hurried down to the 'Prentice's
berth. I was anxious to speak to Tammy. There were a dozen questions
that worried me, and I was in doubt what I ought to do. I found him
crouched on a sea-chest, his knees up to his chin, and his gaze fixed on
the doorway, with a frightened stare.
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