He could see the two shapes, flat and without relief, standing on a high narrow structure with rails. One of them gave a low whistle, and seemed to be fanning his face; but the other rumbled something into a sort of funnel. Presently the two shapes became three. There was a murmuring, as of a consultation, and then suddenly a new voice spoke. At its thrill and tone a sudden tremor ran through Abel Keeling's frame. He wondered what response it was that that voice found in the forgotten recesses of his memory.... "_Ahoy!_" seemed to call this new yet faintly remembered voice. "_What's all this about? Listen. We're His Majesty's destroyer_ Seapink, _out of Devonport last October, and nothing particular the matter with us. Now who are you?_" "The _Mary of the Tower_, out of the Port of Rye on the day of Saint Anne, and only two men--" A gasp interrupted him. "_Out of_ WHERE?" that voice that so strangely moved Abel Keeling said unsteadily, while Bligh broke into groans of renewed rapture. "Out of the Port of Rye, in the County of Sussex ... nay, give ear, else I cannot make you hear me while this man's spirit and flesh wrestle so together!... Ahoy! Are you gone?" For the voices had become a low murmur, and the ship-shape had faded before Abel Keeling's eyes. Again and again he called. He wished to be informed of the disposition and economy of the wind-chamber.... "The wind-chamber!" he called, in an agony lest the knowledge almost within his grasp should be lost. "I would know about the wind-chamber...." Like an echo, there came back the words, uncomprehendingly uttered, "_The wind-chamber_?..." "... that driveth the vessel--perchance 'tis not wind--a steel bow that is bent also conserveth force--the force you store, to move at will through calm and storm...." "Can you make out what it's driving at?" "Oh, we shall all wake up in a minute...." "Quiet, I have it; the engines; it wants to know about our engines. It'll be wanting to see our papers presently. Rye Port!... Well, no harm in humouring it; let's see what it can make of this. Ahoy there!" came the voice to Abel Keeling, a little more strongly, as if a shifting wind carried it, and speaking faster and faster as it went on. "Not wind, but steam; d'you hear? Steam, steam. Steam, in eight Yarrow water-tube boilers. S-t-e-a-m, steam. Got it? And we've twin-screw triple expansion engines, indicated horse-power four thousand, and we can do 430 revolutions per minute; savvy? Is there anything your phantomhood would like to know about our armament?..." Abel Keeling was muttering fretfully to himself. It annoyed him that words in his own vision should have no meaning for him. How did words come to him in a dream that he had no knowledge of when wide awake? The _Seapink_--that was the name of this ship; but a pink was long and narrow, low-carged and square-built aft....