It was about one o’clock in the morning, and he had wakened and crawled out of his pup tent, with, according to him “the feeling that we were in for a blow. There was a cold wind across my feet.”
So he rose, and he saw that our red lantern was burning low, and gingerly stepping across me, reached into a locker for the oil can. When he straightened up he saw a shadowy figure standing in the bow of the boat, directly under the lantern.
He thought at first that it was I, but the next moment he had stumbled across me as I lay supine, and the oil can fell and went a-rolling. The noise did not disturb the figure, and Peter gave a long look at it before he howled like a hyena and brought me up all standing.
It was only then that it disappeared. “Just blew to windward,” according to Peter. I ne
