But what was he doing on the Boston train?
Without lingering to solve the question, I stole gently from my seat and passed into the forward car.
This was very awkward, having the Admiral on board.

I couldn't understand it at all.

Could it be possible that the old boy had got tired of land and was running away to sea himself?
That was too absurd.
I glanced nervously towards the car door now and then, half expecting to see him come after me.
We had passed one or two way-stations, and I had quieted down a good deal, when I began to feel as if somebody was looking steadily at the back of my head.

I turned round involuntarily, and there was Sailor Ben again, at the farther end of the car, wrestling with the Rivermouth Barnacle as before.
I began to grow very uncomfortable indeed.

Was it by design or chance that he thus dogged my steps?
If he was aware of my presence, why didn't he speak to me at once?
'Why did he steal round, making no sign, like a particularly unpleasant phantom?
Maybe it wasn't Sailor Ben.