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“He suddenly went under water himself, and dropping the pike pole, I grabbed him by the collar and braced myself. Something was pulling him away from me, but I managed to get his head out, and he spluttered:

“‘Help! Holdt on to me. Something haf my right foot.’

“‘Lend a hand here,’ I yelled to the men, and a few joined me, grabbing him by his clothing. Together we pulled against the invisible force, and finally all of us went backward, professor and all, nearly to drown ourselves before regaining our feet. Then, as the agitated water smoothed, I distinctly saw the mass of red move slowly forward and disappear in the darkness under the forecastle deck.

“‘You were right, mine friend,’ said the professor, who, in spite of his experience, held his nerve. ‘Dere is something invisible in der water–something dangerous, something which violates all laws of physics und optics. Oh, mine foot, how it hurts!’

“‘Get aft,’ I answered, ‘and find out what ails it. And you fellows,’ I added to the men, ‘keep away from the forecastle deck. Whatever it is, it has gone under it.’

“Then I grabbed the pike pole again, cautiously hooked the barb into the dead man’s clothing, and, assisted by the men, pulled him aft to the poop, where the professor had preceded, and was examining his ankle. There was a big, red wale around it, in the middle of which was a huge blood blister. He pricked it with his knife, then rearranged his stocking and joined us as we lifted the body.

“‘Great God, sir!’ exclaimed big Bill, the bosun. ‘Is that Frank? I wouldn’t know him.’

“Frank, the dead man, had been strong, robust, and full-blooded. But he bore no resemblance to his living self. He lay there, shrunken, shortened, and changed, a look of agony on his emaciated face, and his hands clenched–not extended like those of one drowned.

“‘I thought drowned men swelled up,’ ventured one of the men.

“‘He was not drowned,’ said Herr Smidt. ‘He was sucked dry, like a lemon. Perhaps in his whole body there is not an ounce of blood, nor lymph, nor fluid of any kind.’

“I secured an iron belaying pin, tucked it inside his shirt, and we hove him overboard at once; for, in the presence of this horror, we were not in the mood for a burial service. There we were, eleven men on a water-logged hulk, adrift on a heaving, greasy sea, with a dark-red sun showing through a muddy sky above, and an invisible thing forward that might seize any of us at any moment it chose, in the water or out; for Frank had been caught and dragged down.

“Still, I ordered the men, cook, steward, and all, to remain on the poop and–the galley being forward–to expect no hot meals, as we could subsist for a time on the cold, canned food in the storeroom and lazaret.

“Because of an early friction between the men and the second mate, the mild-mannered and peace-loving skipper had forbidden the crew to wear sheath knives; but in this exigency I overruled the edict. While the professor went down into his flooded room to doctor his ankle and attend to his instruments, I raided the slop chest, and armed every man of us with a sheath knife and belt; for while we could not see the creature, we could feel it–and a knife is better than a gun in a hand-to-hand fight.

“Then we sat around, waiting, while the sky grew muddier, the sun darker, and the northern horizon lighter with a reddish glow that was better than the sun. It was the Java earthquake, but we did not know it for a long time.

“Soon the professor appeared and announced that his instruments were in good condition, and stowed high on shelves above the water.

“‘I must resensitize my plates, however,’ he said. ‘Der salt water has spoiled them; but mine camera merely needs to dry out; und mine telescope, und mine static machine und Leyden jars–why, der water did not touch them.’