The Captain, who was evidently much surprised at my abruptness, said
something hurriedly and rather sharply in answer, but I could not for the
life of me mark what it was. I opened my eyes again, and looked towards
the object that had before riveted my attention. It was neither more nor
less than the Captain's cloak, a plain, unpretending, substantial blue
garment, lined with white, which, on coming below, he had cast carelessly
down on the locker, that ran across the after part of the cabin behind
him. It was about eighteen feet from me, and as there was no light
nearer it than the swinging lamp over the table at which we were seated,
the whole of the cabin thereabouts was thrown considerably into shade.
The cape of the cloak was turned over, showing the white lining, and was
rather bundled as it were into a round heap, about the size of a man's
head. When first I looked at it, there was a dreamy, glimmering
indistinctness about it that I could not well understand, and I would
have said, had it been possible, that the wrinkles and folds in it were
beginning to be instinct with motion, to creep and crawl as it were. At
all events, the false impression was so strong as to jar my nerves, and
make me shudder with horror. I knew there was no such d--ting, as well
as Macbeth--, but nevertheless it was with an indescribable feeling of
curiosity, dashed with awe, that I stared intently at it, as if
fascinated, while almost unwittingly I made the remark already mentioned.
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