for introducing to the reader the mate
who filled the station in the ship next to that of Earing. He was called
Nighthead; a name that was, in some measure, indicative of a certain misty
obscurity that beset his superior member. The qualities of his mind may be
appreciated by the few reflections he saw fit to make on the escape of the
old mariner whom Wilder had intended to visit with a portion of his
indignation. This individual, as he was but one degree removed from the
common men in situation, so was he every way qualified to maintain that
association with the crew which was, in some measure, necessary between
them. His influence among them was commensurate to his opportunities of
intercourse, and his sentiments were very generally received with a
portion of that deference which is thought to be due to the opinions of an
oracle.

After the ship had been worn, and during the time that Wilder, with a view
to lose sight of his unwelcome neighbour, was endeavouring to urge her
through the seas in the manner already described, this stubborn and
mystified tar remained in the waist of the vessel, surrounded by a few of
the older and more experienced seamen, holding converse on the remarkable
appearance of the phantom to leeward, and of the extraordinary manner in
which their unknown officer saw fit to attest the enduring qualities of
their own vessel. We shall commence our relation of the dialogue at a
point where Nighthead saw fit to discontinue his distant inuendos, in
order to deal more directly with the subject he had under discussion.

"I have heard it said, by older sea-faring men than any in this ship," he
continued, "that the devil has been known to send one of his mates aboard
a lawful trader, to lead her astray among shoals and quicksands, in order
that he might make a wreck, and get his share of the salvage, among the
souls of the people. What man can say who gets into the cabin, when an
unknown name stands first in the shipping list of a vessel?"

"The stranger is shut in by a cloud!" exclaimed one of the mariners, who,
while he listened to the philosophy of his officer, still kept an eye
riveted on the mysterious object to leeward.

"Ay, ay; it would occasion no surprise to see that craft steering into the
moon! Luck is like a fly-block and its yard: when one goes up, the other
comes down. They say the red-coats ashore have had their turn of fortune,
and it is time we honest seamen look out for our squalls.