ing of the mist, things seemed to develop pretty quickly.
In the following two or three days a good deal happened.

On the night of the day on which the Skipper had sent me away from the
wheel, it was our watch on deck from eight o' clock to twelve, and my
look-out from ten to twelve.

As I paced slowly to and fro across the fo'cas'le head, I was thinking
about the affair of the morning. At first, my thoughts were about the
Old Man. I cursed him thoroughly to myself, for being a pig-headed old
fool, until it occurred to me that if I had been in his place, and come
on deck to find the ship almost aback, and the fellow at the wheel
staring out across the sea, instead of attending to his business, I
should most certainly have kicked up a thundering row. And then, I had
been an ass to tell him about the ship. I should never have done such a
thing, if I had not been a bit adrift. Most likely the old chap thought
I was cracked.

I ceased to bother my head about him, and fell to wondering why the
Second Mate had looked at me so queerly in the morning. Did he guess
more of the truth than I supposed? And if that were the case, why had he
refused to listen to me?

After that, I went to puzzling about the mist. I had thought a great
deal about it, during the day. One idea appealed to me, very strongly.
It was that the actual, visible mist was a materialised expression of an
extraordinarily subtle atmosphere, in which we were moving.

Abruptly, as I walked backwards and forwards, taking occasional glances
over the sea (which was almost calm), my eye caught the glow of a light
out in the darkness. I stood still, and stared. I wondered whether it
was the light of a vessel. In that case we were no longer enveloped in
that extraordinary atmosphere. I bent forward, and gave the thing my
more immediate attention. I saw then that it was undoubtedly the green
light of a vessel on our port bow. It was plain that she was bent on
crossing our bows. What was more, she was dangerously near--the size and
brightness of her light showed that. She would be close-hauled, while we
were going free, so that, of course, it was our place to get out of her
way. Instantly, I turned and, putting my hands up to my mouth, hailed
the Second Mate:

"Light on the port bow, Sir."

The next moment his hail came back:

"Whereabouts?"

"He must be blind," I said to myself.

"About two points on the bow, Sir," I sung out.

Then I turned to see whether s