 Throughout the years, ships that sailed the seas have proved a plentiful source of tales of the strange and the incredible, for it is only natural that men can sign for days on into limitless horizons of empty sky and water should be subject to visions and hallucinations. But how shall we explain the vision of Mr. Wellmott, which was confirmed by its own subject, someone who had been nowhere near the sea? The thing happened aboard the steamer City of Limerick on its last night out. For nine whole days, the vessel had been lashed by furious storms. As the ship lurched, enrolled, and threatened at each moment to go plunging forever beneath the waves, Mr. SR Wellmott thought much of the things he might never see again. His home in Bridgeport, Connecticut, his factory there, his children, and above all, his wife. On the tenth night, the sea at last grew calm, and Mr. Wellmott lay gratefully down on his bunk and prepared to sleep. As he lay there, he listened to the slow, regular, peaceful breathing of William Tate, who shared his cabin with him and slept in the berth over head. And then he saw her standing in the doorway, a woman who was unmistakably his wife. Margaret, Margaret, what are you doing here? But she did not answer. She came slowly toward him, and standing by his bed, bent and kissed him. Feeling her lips on his, feeling the touch of her hand on his cheek, he told himself that this was no dream. This was really happening. But then suddenly, she was gone, and there was nothing before him but the empty, moon-drenched cabin. In the morning, when he awoke, Mr. Wellmott knew, of course, that it must have been a dream. He laid for a moment, smiling at his own credulity, when from the berth above a voice inquired, All right, Wellmott, confess now, who was she? Who, who was who? The woman who came tip-toeing into this room and stood by your bed and kissed you. That afternoon, the city of Limerick docked at New York, and Mr. Wellmott took the night train to Bridgeport. He saved the question he had to ask his wife until he and she were alone. But even then, he had no opportunity to speak, for it was his wife who inquired. How is it dear that you didn't have a private cabin on the return voyage? What makes you think I didn't have one? Well, there was another man with you. He slept in the bunk above yours. But, but how could you know that? It was last night, dear. I couldn't sleep. We've been reading about the storms on the Atlantic, and I was terribly worried. Oh, I know this sounds absurd, but it's true. I seemed to be crossing the water and coming aboard your ship. I went into your room, and even though that man was there, I bent down and kissed you. Here was an incident in which three different individuals participated, and which each independently confirmed. It's an incident incredible, but true.