Bob declared he was glad to be on deck again, for he had been tormented, all his watch below, by “that villainous sarpent;” visions of which so disturbed his restless slumbers that it was a real comfort to have the craft to look after, and something to occupy his mind.
I anticipated no such disturbing influence myself; for though I candidly confess I was awfully frightened at the moment, the effect had passed away almost with the disappearance of the monster; and the cool freshness of the night breeze had induced a feeling of drowsiness, particularly welcome to a man about to retire to his hammock.
In less than five minutes I was fast asleep. When I awoke, which I did without being called, I was surprised to find the sun streaming down through the skylight; and still more so when I observed that we seemed to have gone about during the night. The Water Lily was now certainly on the starboard tack; whereas, when I turned in, we were on the port tack.
“It can’t be a change of wind, here in the heart of the trades,” thought I. “What can Bob be about? and why has he allowed me to overrun my watch? Surely the old fellow was not afraid to come below and turn in? Hallo! Bob ahoy! what’s wrong on deck?” shouted I, springing out of my hammock.
Just as I did so, I heard the mainsail fluttering, as though the boat had luffed into the wind; and at the same moment I caught sight, through the companion-way, of the vacant tiller swinging about.
“Gone forward to shift the jib,” thought I; and I jumped on deck to lend a hand.
Bob was nowhere to be seen.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed I, “what dreadful thing has happened?”
I thought of the sea-serpent for one moment, but dismissed the idea the next, as being both too horrible and too unlikely.
The creature could hardly have approached without giving Bob the alarm, which I knew he would have instantly communicated to me.