The most exciting watch-keeping partner was undoubtedly the First Lieutenant; but his visits to the bridge were voluntary, and unfortunately few. He would appear at odd hours--usually at night when he had been unable to sleep. At first he would take no notice of anyone, but stand at the end of the bridge, staring down upon the chains. Then, rousing himself jerkily--every movement of his was a jerk--he would do breathing exercises, a performance so strange that the Quartermasters shook their heads and sometimes tapped their foreheads significantly. When the breathing exercises were finished the First Lieutenant would turn swiftly, his cap over his eyes, and rattle up to monkey’s island, where the officer of the watch and his midshipman were standing by the compass. “Ee!” he began. This was a strange sound, peculiar to himself, which was forced from his throat--apparently in spite of some physical obstruction. “Ee! Finish your watch for you. You go below. Anything to turn over?” “Can’t you sleep, Number One?” “No. Ee. Yes, I mean. You push off. Mm?” One night, after such preliminaries, the First Lieutenant being left on watch, he rapped out at John: “Ever seen a sea-monster?... Ought to see a sea-monster.... No, boy, don’t look mazed. This isn’t a Peter-Piper-Picked-a-Peck exercise. Common sense. Ought to see a sea-monster. Good for snotties. Mm?” After a pause. “Seamen’s fairies. Believe in fairies. Believe in fairies, believe in God. Look for sea-monster and you have your eye on the Devil. Catch sea-monster; catch Devil by tail.” Other midshipmen had been known to laugh, as they thought, politely; but John knew the First Lieutenant too well. Left alone he would presently become comprehensible and interesting. Interruption would drive him into silence. Soon he began a rambling disquisition upon the probable anatomy, functions, and habits of sea-monsters. His talk was full of the technicalities of doctors and zoologists. The longer a word the more rapid his pronunciation of it.... From sea-monsters to prehistoric beasts, and thence to were-wolves and vampires was an easy progress. Of the supernatural he spoke with none of the nervous suggestion of one who visits séances. He did not persuade or argue, and his tales, frankly imaginary, seemed to be told to himself rather than to John. They were wonderful tales.