"Look here, Jessop," he said. "I'm going to talk straight to you. You strike me as being a cut above the ordinary shellback, and I think you've sense enough to hold your tongue." "I've got my mate's ticket, Sir," I said, simply. Behind me, I heard Tammy give a little start. He had not known about it until then. The Skipper nodded. "So much the better," he answered. "I may have to speak to you about that, later on." He paused, and the Second Mate said something to him, in an undertone. "Yes," he said, as though in reply to what the Second had been saying. Then he spoke to me again. "You've seen things come out of the sea, you say?" he questioned. "Now just tell me all you can remember, from the very beginning." I set to, and told him everything in detail, commencing with the strange figure that had stepped aboard out of the sea, and continuing my yarn, up to the things that had happened in that very watch. I stuck well to solid facts; and now and then he and the Second Mate would look at one another, and nod. At the end, he turned to me with an abrupt gesture. "You still hold, then, that you saw a ship the other morning, when I sent you from the wheel?" he asked. "Yes, Sir," I said. "I most certainly do." "But you knew there wasn't any!" he said. "Yes, Sir," I replied, in an apologetic tone. "There was; and, if you will let me, I believe that I can explain it a bit." "Well," he said. "Go on." Now that I knew he was willing to listen to me in a serious manner all my funk of telling him had gone, and I went ahead and told him my ideas about the mist, and the thing it seemed to have ushered, you know. I finished up, by telling him how Tammy had worried me to come and tell what I knew. "He thought then, Sir," I went on, "that you might wish to put into the nearest port; but I told him that I didn't think you could, even if you wanted to." "How's that?" he asked, profoundly interested. "Well, Sir," I replied. "If we're unable to see other vessels, we shouldn't be able to see the land. You'd be piling the ship up, without ever seeing where you were putting her." This view of the matter, affected the Old Man in an extraordinary manner; as it did, I believe, the Second Mate. And neither spoke for a moment. Then the Skipper burst out. "By Gad! Jessop," he said. "If you're right, the Lord have mercy on us." He thought for a couple of seconds. Then he spoke again, and I could see that he was pretty well twisted up: "My God!... if you're right!" The Second Mate spoke. "The men mustn't know, Sir," he warned him. "It'd be a mess if they did!" "Yes," said the Old Man. He spoke to me. "Remember that, Jessop," he said. "Whatever you do, don't go yarning about this, forrard." "No, Sir," I replied. "And you too, boy," said the Skipper. "Keep your tongue between your teeth. We're in a bad enough mess, without your making it worse. Do you hear?" "Yes, Sir," answered Tammy. The Old Man turned to me again.