And on one of these, as I struck a match and lit the swinging slush lamp, and glanced around me, I saw a man sitting, his bare legs dangling over the side. Down his pale face ran great drops of sweat, and his eyes were staring, glassy, and fixed. One or two of his mates tumbled out; others poked their heads over the bunk-boards and swore that it couldn’t be eight bells already. But the man still gazed over and beyond us with that horrible stare in his dilated eyes, and when I laid my hand on him he was rigid. Then one who, in place of drinking his ‘tot’ of rum that night, had treasured it up for another time, produced it; and, laying the man back, and forcing open the clenched teeth, we got some of it down his throat; and presently he came to himself and sat up. His first words were,— ‘I’ve had it again! Just the same—the mate an’ me!’ Then, with a look around, ‘I’m sorry to have roused ye up, mates. I’m all right now.’ Then, to myself, ‘How long afore we’re off the Horn, sir?’ ‘About a week if the wind holds. Why?’ ‘Because,’ replied he, lying back and rolling over in his blankets, ‘I’ve got a week longer to live.’ ‘That was Jack Ashby, an’ he’s had his dream again,’ said the lookout man in an awed voice as we hurried on deck, fearful of wandering bergs. Then (his name was Baker) he told me the whole story, and, in spite of my utter incredulity, I became interested, and, having little to do, watched closely the progress of the expected drama. Also, after that night, I had many a talk with Ashby. I found him a man rather above the average run of his class, and one open to reason and argument; nor, on the whole, very superstitious. But on the subject of his vision he was immovable. ‘You saw the land in your dreams, did you not?’ I once asked. ‘Yes, sir,’ replied he. ‘Big cliffs, not more ’n a mile away,’ and he described its appearance, and the position of the vessel. ‘Well, then,’ I said, ‘it may interest you to know that the skipper intends to keep well to the south’ard, and that we’re more likely to sight the Shetlands than the Horn.’ But he only shook his head and smiled faintly as he replied,— ‘He was goin’ home by Good Hope, sir. But he didn’t. What the skipper means to do, an’ what the Lord wills is two very different things. My time’s gettin’ short; but we’ll both go together—_him_ an’ me. I don’t reckon as there ’ll be any hazin’ to speak of in the next world. P’r’aps it’s best as it is. If I wasn’t sure an’ certain o’ what’s comin’, I’d have killed him long ago. But,’ he concluded, ‘I’m ready. I’ve been showed how it’s ordained to happen; an’, so long as I’ve the company I want, I don’t care.’ During these days, impressed, somehow, by the feeling of intense expectation that pervaded all hands for’ard, I took more notice of Mr Harris, the mate, than I had hitherto done. ‘He was no favourite of mine, and, beyond passing the time of day, we had found very little to say to each other.