"Poo, there he is at the masthead,--there," said I; for as I looked up I distinctly saw, either with my bodily optic, or my mind's eye, I am not quite certain which to this hour, a dark figure standing on the long-yard, with one hand holding on by a backstay, while with the other it pointed upwards into the pure sky. Old Dick at this was in a towering passion. "Come down--Mr De Walden--come down. sir--what is the fun of all this?--why, your absence has put the whole ship in a fuss--we thought you had fallen overboard." The dark object remained stock-still. "What _can_ the captain see?" passed amongst the men. "Why, _I_ see nothing, but Mr Brail does," quoth _el señor teniente_. "Do you see any thing at the masthead?" said one to his neighbour--"Do _you_ see any thing?" quoth another. No one saw any thing but myself. "Look there, Sprawl--there--by Heaven what can this mean--_do_ you really see nothing there?" The worthy fellow shaded his eyes with his hand, and kept twisting and turning and rolling his head about, as if it had been fixed on the ball and socket principle; but the object that had fascinated me was invisible to him. Gradually the figure, without changing its position, _thinned_; and anon, as if it had been a shred of dark vapour between us and the heavens, the stars were seen through it; but the outline, to my distempered vision, was still as well defined as ever. Presently, however, it began to grow indistinct and misty; and, whatever it was, it imperceptibly melted away and disappeared. _De Walden was nowhere to be found_. I looked back towards the dark estuary we had left. The sky in the background was heavy, black, and surcharged, as if it had been one vast thundercloud; but the white line of breakers on the bar continued distinctly visible; over which the heavenly moonlight rainbow still hovered, although gradually fading; and even as I looked it ceased to be distinguishable. As it disappeared in the surrounding blackness, even so vanished all hope from my mind of young De Walden's safety: and remembering the poor boy's last words--"A good omen!" said I, "Alas, alas, an evil one it hath been to thee, poor boy!" "Call the watch, boatswain's mate," said Lanyard; and without speaking a word more, he, old Davie, and I descended to the cabin again. "What saw you aloft, Benjie? tell us truly--none of your waking dreams, you mongrel, half Scotchman, half Pat," said Sprawl. I told him. "I know it is downright nonsense--there was no one aloft, and I am persuaded it was all a delusion; still"----