That was how it struck me.
By eleven o'clock all was hushed throughout the ship: lights out, the
captain turned in, nothing stirring forward save the flitting shape of
the look-out under the yawn of the pale square of fore-course. It was
blowing a pleasant breeze of wind, and lost in thought I leaned over
the rail at the weather fore-end of the poop watching the cold
sea-glow shining in the dark water as the foam spat past, sheeting away
astern in a furrow like moonlight. I will swear I did not doze; that I
never was guilty of whilst on duty in all the years I was at sea; but
I don't doubt that I was sunk deep in thought, insomuch that my
reverie may have possessed a temporary power of abstraction as
complete as slumber itself.
I was startled into violent wakefulness by a cannonade of canvas
aloft, and found the ship in the wind. I looked aft; the wheel was
deserted--at least I believed so, till on rushing to it, meanwhile
shouting to the watch on deck, I spied the figure of the helmsman on
his face close beside the binnacle.
I thought he was dead. The watch to my shouts came tumbling to the
braces, and in a few minutes the captain made his appearance. The ship
was got to her course afresh, by which time the man who had been
steering was so far recovered as to be able to sit on the grating
abaft the wheel and relate what had happened.
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