Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (303 page)

But,
as
sometimes
a
sleeper
sits
up
in
his
dream,
or
rises
from
his couch
and
walks,
so
all
of
a
sudden
Abel
Keeling
found
himself
on
his hands
and
knees
on
the
deck,
looking
back
over
his
shoulder.
In
some deep-seated
region
of
his
consciousness
he
was
dimly
aware
that
the cant
of
the
deck
had
become
more
perilous,
but
his
brain
received
the intelligence
and
forgot
it
again.
He
was
looking
out
into
the
bright and
baffling
mists.
The
buckler
of
the
sun
was
of
a
more
ardent
silver; the
sea
below
it
was
lost
in
brilliant
evaporation;
and
between
them, suspended
in
the
haze,
no
more
substantial
than
the
vague
darknesses that
float
before
dazzled
eyes,
a
pyramidal
phantom-shape
hung.
Abel Keeling
passed
his
hand
over
his
eyes,
but
when
he
removed
it
the shape
was
still
there,
gliding
slowly
towards
the
Mary's
quarter.
Its form
changed
as
he
watched
it.
The
spirit-grey
shape
that
had
been
a pyramid
seemed
to
dissolve
into
four
upright
members,
slightly
graduated
in
tallness,
that
nearest
the
Mary's
stern
the
tallest
and
that
to the
left
the
lowest.
It
might
have
been
the
shadow
of
the
gigantic
set

of
reed-pipes
on
which
that
vacant
mournful
note
had
been
sounded. And
as
he
looked,
with
fooled
eyes,
again
his
ears
became
fooled:
"Ahoy
there.'
What
ship's
that?
Are
you
a
ship?
.
.
.
Here,
give
mc

that
trumpet
-----
"
Then
a
metallic
barking.
"Ahoy
there/
What
the