At times, even, he caught himself regarding the first officer with an emotion of curious pity, as one whose doom was so near and yet so unexpected. And, by degrees, the men, recognising this attitude of his, and sympathising heartily with it in different fashions, and different degrees of credulity, forbore further advice, and waited with what patience they might. It was getting well on towards Christmas. * * * * * I no more wished to go to London _viâ_ Cape Horn than did John Ashby. But my reasons were altogether different. When I had engaged a saloon passage on the _Dido_ it was an understood thing that she would take the other Cape for it. But a short four hours’ fight against a westerly wind so sickened the captain that he put his helm up, and squared his yards, and shaped a course that would bring him closer to Staten Island than to Simon’s Bay. It was some time before I had any conception of how things stood for’ard, with respect at least to the subject of this story. I saw, of course, that the chief officer was a bully, and that he was heartily disliked by the men. But of Jack Ashby and his dream I knew nothing. Nor, until my attention was especially drawn to it, did I perceive that he was undergoing the hazing process. As the only passenger, and one who had paid his footing liberally, I was often on the fo’k’stle and in other parts of the ship supposed to belong peculiarly to the men. Thus, one night, happening to be having a smoke on the top-gallant fo’k’stle, underneath which lay the quarters of the crew, I sat down on the anchor stock, and watched the cold-looking seas rolling up from the Antarctic Circle, and exchanging at intervals a word with the look-out man as he stumped across from rail to rail. Close beside me was a small scuttle, with the sliding-lid of it pushed back. I had scarcely lit my pipe when up through this, making me nearly drop it from my mouth, came a long, sharp scream as one in dire agony. ‘What’s the matter down there?’ shouted my companion, falling on his knees and craning his head over the coamings of the hatch. Without waiting for an answer, we both bolted on to the main deck and into the fo’k’stle, where could be heard broken murmurs and growlings from the sleepy watch who filled the double tier of open bunks running with the sheer of the ship right into the eyes of her.