He was complete but for the head.A headless corpse! The cigar dropped out of my gaping mouth with a tiny plop and a short hiss quite audible in the absolute stillness of all things under heaven.
At that I suppose he raised up his face, a dimly pale oval in the shadow of the ship's side.But even then I could only barely make out down there the shape of his black-haired head.
However, it was enough for the horrid, frost-bound sensation which had gripped me about the chest to pass off.
The moment of vain exclamations was past, too.I only climbed on the spare spar and leaned over the rail as far as I could, to bring my eyes nearer to that mystery floating alongside.
As he hung by the ladder, like a resting swimmer, the sea lightning played about his limbs at every stir; and he appeared in it ghastly, silvery, fishlike.He remained as mute as a fish, too.He made no motion to get out of the water, either.
It was inconceivable that he should not attempt to come on board, and strangely troubling to suspect that perhaps he did not want to.
And my first words were prompted by just that troubled incertitude.
"What's the matter?" I asked in my ordinary tone, speaking down to the face upturned exactly under mine.
"Cramp," it answered, no louder.Then slightly anxious, "I say, no need to call anyone.""I was not going to," I said.
"Are you alone on deck?"
"Yes."
I had somehow the impression that he was on the point of letting go the ladder to swim away beyond my ken--mysterious as he came.But, for the moment, this being appearing as if he had risen from the bottom of the sea (it was certainly the nearest land to the ship) wanted only to know the time.
I told him.And he, down there, tentatively:
"I suppose your captain's turned in?"
"I am sure he isn't," I said.
He seemed to struggle with himself, for I heard something like the low, bitter murmur of doubt."What's the good?"His next words came out with a hesitating effort.
"Look here, my man.Could you call him out quietly?"I thought the time Had come to declare myself.
"I am the captain."
I heard a "By Jove!" whispered at the level of the water.
The phosphorescence flashed in the swirl of the water all about his limbs, his other hand seized the ladder.
"My name's Leggatt."
The voice was calm and resolute.A good voice.The self-possession of that man had somehow induced a corresponding state in myself.
It was very quietly that I remarked:
"You must be a good swimmer."
"Yes.I've been in the water practically since nine o'clock.
The question for me now is whether I am to let go this ladder and go on swimming till I sink from exhaustion, or--to come on board here."I felt this was no mere formula of desperate speech, but a real alternative in the view of a strong soul.
I should have gathered from this that he was young; indeed, it is only the young who are ever confronted by such clear issues.
But at the time it was pure intuition on my part.
A mysterious communication was established already between us two--in the face of that silent, darkened tropical sea.
I was young, too; young enough to make no comment.
The man in the water began suddenly to climb up the ladder, and I hastened away from the rail to fetch some clothes.
Before entering the cabin I stood still, listening in the lobby at the foot of the stairs.A faint snore came through the closed door of the chief mate's room.The second mate's door was on the hook, but the darkness in there was absolutely soundless.He, too, was young and could sleep like a stone.Remained the steward, but he was not likely to wake up before he was called.
I got a sleeping suit out of my room and, coming back on deck, saw the naked man from the sea sitting on the main hatch, glimmering white in the darkness, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.In a moment he had concealed his damp body in a sleeping suit of the same gray-stripe pattern as the one I was wearing and followed me like my double on the poop.
Together we moved right aft, barefooted, silent.
"What is it?" I asked in a deadened voice, taking the lighted lamp out of the binnacle, and raising it to his face.
"An ugly business."
He had rather regular features; a good mouth; light eyes under somewhat heavy, dark eyebrows; a smooth, square forehead; no growth on his cheeks; a small, brown mustache, and a well-shaped, round chin.
His expression was concentrated, meditative, under the inspecting light of the lamp I held up to his face; such as a man thinking hard in solitude might wear.My sleeping suit was just right for his size.A well-knit young fellow of twenty-five at most.
He caught his lower lip with the edge of white, even teeth.
"Yes," I said, replacing the lamp in the binnacle.
The warm, heavy tropical night closed upon his head again.
"There's a ship over there," he murmured.
"Yes, I know.The Sephora.Did you know of us?""Hadn't the slightest idea.I am the mate of her--"He paused and corrected himself."I should say I WAS.""Aha! Something wrong?"
"Yes.Very wrong indeed.I've killed a man.""What do you mean? Just now?"
"No, on the passage.Weeks ago.Thirty-nine south.
When I say a man--"
"Fit of temper," I suggested, confidently.
The shadowy, dark head, like mine, seemed to nod imperceptibly above the ghostly gray of my sleeping suit.It was, in the night, as though I had been faced by my own reflection in the depths of a somber and immense mirror.
"A pretty thing to have to own up to for a Conway boy,"murmured my double, distinctly.
"You're a Conway boy?"
"I am," he said, as if startled.Then, slowly..."Perhaps you too--"It was so; but being a couple of years older I had left before he joined.After a quick interchange of dates a silence fell;and I thought suddenly of my absurd mate with his terrific whiskers and the "Bless my soul--you don't say so" type of intellect.
My double gave me an inkling of his thoughts by saying:
"My father's a parson in Norfolk.Do you see me before a judge and jury on that charge? For myself I can't see the necessity.
There are fellows that an angel from heaven--And I am not that.