r. It came to me suddenly that I had the kind of feeling one has in the aisle of a large cathedral. There was a sort of echo in the night--an incredibly faint reduplicating of the noise of our oars.
"Hark!" I said, audibly; not realizing at first that I was speaking aloud. "There's an echo--"
"That's it!" the Captain cut in, sharply. "I thought I heard something rummy!"
. . . "I thought I heard something rummy," said a thin ghostly echo, out of the night. . . "thought I heard something rummy" . . . "heard something rummy." The words went muttering and whispering to and fro in the night about us, in a rather a horrible fashion.
"Good Lord!" said the Old Man, in a whisper.
We had all stopped rowing, and were staring about us into the thin mist that filled the night. The Skipper was standing with the bull's-eye lamp held over his head, circling the beam of light round from port to starboard, and back again.
Abruptly, as he did so, it came to me that the mist was thinner.