"How so, comrade?"
"Because I'm followed—I'm watched—spied upon sleeping and waking!"
"Aye, but how d'ye know?" he questioned, stooping to peer at me.
"I feel it—I've known it for days past, and to-night I saw it. I'm haunted, I tell you!"
"Who by, shipmate?"
"Aye!" I cried. "Who is it—what? 'Tis a thing that flits i' the dark and with never a sound, that watches and listens. It mounted the ladder yonder scarce a moment since plain to my sight—"
"Yet I saw nothing, Martin. And not a soul stirring, save the watch forward, the steersman aft, and myself."
"Why then I'm verily mad!" says I.
"Not you, shipmate, not you. 'Tis nought but the solitude and darkness, they take many a man that way, so ha' done with 'em, Martin! My lady's offer of employ yet holdeth good, so 'list with me as master's mate, say but the word and—"
"No!" says I, fiercely. "Come what may I take no service under an accursed Brandon!" Saying which I got me to my feet and presently back to the haunted dark.