"Very well, sir." But he did not move from the doorway and returned my
stare in an extraordinary, equivocal manner for a time. Then his eyes
wavered, all his expression changed, and in a voice unusually gentle,
almost coaxingly:

"May I come in to take the empty cup away, sir?"

"Of course!" I turned my back on him while he popped in and out. Then
I unhooked and closed the door and even pushed the bolt. This sort of
thing could not go on very long. The cabin was as hot as an oven, too. I
took a peep at my double, and discovered that he had not moved, his arm
was still over his eyes; but his chest heaved; his hair was wet; his
chin glistened with perspiration. I reached over him and opened the
port.

"I must show myself on deck," I reflected.

Of course, theoretically, I could do what I liked, with no one to say
nay to me within the whole circle of the horizon; but to lock my cabin
door and take the key away I did not dare. Directly I put my head out
of the companion I saw the group of my two officers, the second mate
barefooted, the chief mate in long India-rubber boots, near the break of
the poop, and the steward halfway down the poop ladder talking to them
eagerly. He happened to catch sight of me and dived, the second ran down
on the main-deck shouting some order or other, and the chief mate came
to meet me, touching his cap.

There was a sort of curiosity in his eye that I did not like. I don't
know whether the steward had told them that I was "queer" only, or
downright drunk, but I know the man meant to have a good look at me. I