The skipper of the Sephora had a thin red whisker all round his face, and the sort of complexionthat goes with hair of that color; also the particular, rather smeary shade of blue in the eyes. He wasnot exactly a showy figure; his shoulders were high, his stature but middling-one leg slightly morebandy than the other. He shook hands, looking vaguely around. A spiritless tenacity was his maincharacteristic, I judged. I behaved with a politeness which seemed to disconcert him. Perhaps he wasshy. He mumbled to me as if he were ashamed of what he was saying; gave his name (it wassomething like Archbold-but at this distance of years I hardly am sure), his ship's name, and a fewother particulars of that sort, in the manner of a criminal making a reluctant and doleful confession.He had had terrible weather on the passage out-terrible-terrible-wife aboard, too.By this time we were seated in the cabin and the steward brought in a tray with a bottle andglasses. "Thanks! No." Never took liquor. Would have some water, though. He drank twotumblerfuls. Terrible thirsty work. Ever since daylight had been exploring the islands round his ship."What was that for-fun?" I asked, with an appearance of polite interest."No!" He sighed. "Painful duty."As he persisted in his mumbling and I wanted my double to hear every word, I hit upon thenotion of informing him that I regretted to say I was hard of hearing."Such a young man, too!" he nodded, keeping his smeary blue, unintelligent eyes fastened uponme. "What was the cause of it-some disease?" he inquired, without the least sympathy and as if hethought that, if so, I'd got no more than I deserved."Yes; disease," I admitted in a cheerful tone which seemed to shock him. But my point wasgained, because he had to raise his voice to give me his tale. It is not worth while to record hisversion. It was just over two months since all this had happened, and he had thought so much aboutit that he seemed completely muddled as to its bearings, but still immensely impressed."What would you think of such a thing happening on board your own ship? I've had the Sephorafor these fifteen years. I am a well-known shipmaster."He was densely distressed-and perhaps I should have sympathized with him if I had been ableto detach my mental vision from the unsuspected sharer of my cabin as though he were my secondself. There he was on the other side of the bulkhead, four or five feet from us, no more, as we sat inthe saloon. I looked politely at Captain Archbold (if that was his name), but it was the other I saw, ina gray sleeping suit, seated on a low stool, his bare feet close together, his arms folded, and everyword said between us falling into the ears of his dark head bowed on his chest.