“Do not be in too great a hurry with your ‘noes,’” he exclaimed. “I like a man to reflect when he is asked a question in metaphysics.” “I know nothing about metaphysics,” said I, “and I do not believe in dreams.” “I believe in the unseen,” said he, putting down the glass, and folding his arms and leaning back against the rail, as though settling himself down for a talk or an argument. “The materialist tells you not to put your faith in anything you can’t see, or handle, or smell, that you can’t bring some organ or function of sense to bear upon, in short. Throw yourself down upon your back, and look straight up into the sky. What do you see? Hey? But do you see it? Yes. Do you understand it? No. It is visible, and yet it is the unseen; for at what does a man look when he gazes straight up into the sky?” “There are few things worth going mad for,” said I, “and two things I am resolved shall never send me to Bedlam.” “What are they?” “One of them’s that,” said I, pointing straight up. “What do you make of yonder schooner,” said he. I described such features as I had observed. “She has a black hull, and a thin line of painted ports,” said he. “She has.” “She has lost her fore topmast and jib boom.” “That’s so.” “It is very extraordinary!” he exclaimed. “I dreamt last night, or in one of this morning watches, that I sighted that schooner. I saw her in my dream as I have been seeing her in that glass there. She was wrecked forward, she lay in the trough, she showed no canvas but her gaff foresail. There it all is!” he said, pointing; “and yet how quick you are with your ‘No’ when I asked if you believed in dreams!” He smiled and continued, “But my dream carried me further than I intend to go in these waking hours; for, in my dream, I launched a boat, where from I can’t tell ye, and went aboard that schooner. I looked about me, her decks were lifeless. I stepped below into her little cabin, and what d’ye think I saw? The figure of Death seated in an armchair at the table with a pack of cards in one skeleton hand. He pointed to a chair and began to deal. I awoke, and wasn’t sorry to wake. There lies the schooner. How very extraordinary! Is old Death below, waiting for a partner? You shall find out, Fielding. I’ll lay you aboard. By thunder, rather than go myself I would forfeit all the money I hope to take up at the end of this run.”