The watch from eight to twelve was wonderfully fascinating, and full of romance. A full moon hung in the clear tropical sky. The waters rippled, and the Southern Cross glimmered in the distant horizon. Occasionally a block or boom squeaked, as if to say, "I, too, lend enchantment to the night."
At ten-thirty the light went out in the Captain's room. I knew that, tired by the excitement of the day, it would not be long before he would be asleep. With instructions to the wheel-man to keep her on her course, I went forward to see Old Charlie, and hear from him what happened next aboard the bark "Mud Puddler."
"As I was saying last night, there I stood with my hand stretched out to ring the bell, and, sir, I could not move a muscle."
"Charlie," said I, "you were just dozing and dreaming, and thought that you heard the bell aft."
"Not at all, sir, not at all. For the mate came forward cursing and swearing and telling me that if I slept again on watch he would dock me a month's pay. I have sailed under flags of many nations, sir, and never have I been caught dozing at the wheel or on the lookout."
"What about the Flying Bo'sun, did he visit your ship?"
Old Charlie was too solemn for one to think lightly of his story.
"Wait, sir, don't go too fast. At breakfast the next morning I was telling my shipmates about the strange man on the foc's'le. In describing how he looked and the clothes he wore, one old sailor seemed much interested.
"You say he wore Wellington boots and a pea-jacket? What color did you say his beard was?"
"Black and bushy," said I.