In January, 1734, the ship Elizabeth, Captain Walker, lay at anchor in the harbour of Cadiz, and had on board Mr. Burnel, a surgeon, and a native of Ireknd, who was returning to his native country. Being a very intelligent man, and a most entertaining companion, the Captain conceived a particular friendship for him. One day the conversation turned on apparitions. Burnet seemed to be a firm believer in ghosts; at least he related a great number of extraordinary stories, which might be considered to argue such a belief. Walker, on the contrary, satisfied in his own mind of the impossibility of supernatural appearances, endeavoured to convince his friend of the absurdity and defective evidence of those stories; and declared that nothing on earth could induce him to adopt other notions at the expense of his reason, and convert him to the faith in the visible appearance of the spirits of deceased persons.

This, perhaps, inconsiderate declaration suggested to Mr. Burnet the idea of showing his friend, how reason, bound by the nature of man, and still more by education and prejudice, in the shackles of imagination, is frequently tyrannized over by the latter.

About noon, they were standing with several of the crew on the forecastle, and looking at the Governor’s guard-boats bringing-to in the bay, when Burnet, who was known to be an excellent swimmer, offered to bet that he would leap overboard and swim under water all the way to those boats, close to which he would suddenly emerge, and terrify the men on guard, who would take him for a water spirit.

The bet was accepted; Burnet stripped, sprung into the water, and was presently out of sight. The crew ran forward, and all fixed their eyes steadfastly on the guard- boats, in expectation of seeing him rise. They waited in vain ; he did not make his appearance, for he had undertaken more than he could accomplish. A considerable time elapsed: all hopes of ever seeing him again were wholly extinguished; he must certainly have perished. All on board were in the utmost uneasiness and dismay, and especially those who had wagered with him, and who were now tormented by the idea that they were in some measure accessary to his death.

This melancholy event threw a damp over the spirits of the whole crew. At dusk, Walker retired with some of his friends to his cabin, where the loss of their agreeable companion was the only, and by no means cheering topic of their conversation.

The party broke up, and the Captain went to bed in a state of extraordinary dejection. His mind was so deeply engaged with the lamentable fate of his friend, that he found it impossible to sleep. He had thus lain for a considerable time; the moon shone bright through the window of the cabin, when he perceived that the door opened. He turned his eyes that way, and discovered something which could not but astonish him, for he fancied that it resembled a human figure. Presently recovering from his surprise, he would fain have persuaded himself that it was only a phantom of his disturbed imagination, and looked another way. His eyes, however, turned instinctively to the mysterious object, which he now saw plainly approaching him, and in which he recognised the exact figure of his deceased friend. At this moment he was seized with a horror which shook his inmost soul, and extorted involuntary tones of agony from his heaving bosom.

The mate, who used to sleep behind the cabin near the steerage, was not yet in bed, and heard the Captain cry in a loud and evidently agitated voice, “Who are you?” He instantly ran in with a light; but, on perceiving Burnet’s spirit wrapped in a morning gown, he fell senseless on the floor without uttering a single word.

The nocturnal intruder now proved himself to be a humane and compassionate spirit, manifesting, from this moment, the utmost anxiety for the revival of the mate, who was half dead with fear. The spectre ran to a bottle of spirits which stood in the window, held it to the poor fellow’s nose, and rubbed his temples with the liquor. The Captain, who still lay trembling in every joint, observing the kind officiousness of the spirit, began to recover from his terror.

This supposed spectre completely dispelled his astonishment and consternation, when, withoutrelaxing for a moment his attentions to the apparently lifeless mate, he thus addressed the Captain: “My dear friend,”—for it was no other than Burnet himself—”I beg your pardon: I am afraid I have carried the joke too far. I swam, round the ship and got in again, unobserved, at the cabin window. This result I had not calculated on; for my only object was to convince you of the natural terror which usually overpowers even the boldest, on occasion of such appearances. You are now, I dare say, thoroughly convinced of this oft-contested truth.”

Walker was sincerely rejoiced to be thus awaked from his frightful dream, and to know that his friend, whom he had believed to be dead, was still living. But, while he cheerfully acknowledged that he was vanquished and perfectly convinced, he did not fail to recommend the mate to his friend’s best efforts, lest his revival from a sham death should be marked by the real death of the poor fellow.

Mr. Burnet’s endeavours to recover him were not unsuccessful; but no sooner did the mate come to himself, and set his eyes on the supposed ghost, who inadvertently stood just before him, than again, overcome with terror, he relapsed immediately into his former senseless state. Burnet then retired from the cabin, to call others to the assistance of the unfortunate man; and much time was consequently lost; for all to whom he applied were more or less frightened at the unexpected appearance of one whom they regarded as drowned, so that he had great difficulty, with all his arts of persuasion, to convince them that he was himself.

The unfortunate mate never recovered the complete use of his senses. Nature had sustained too severe a shock, and reason was driven, as it were, from her seat for ever. From that unlucky hour his mental faculties seemed to be stupefied; and he never afterwards could be brought to look Mr. Burnet in the face, though he had previously been one of the most courageous of men, and had undauntedly braved death in many a danger.

Thus terminated Burnet’s experiment to try how soon the imagination of an incredulous person may be overcome; and how far the fear natural to every person may extend its influence over the so easily deluded senses. His adventure shows us, at the same time, that it may be dangerous to attempt to convince the reason by attacking the imagination; that it betrays but little kindness or delicacy of feeling thus to dissect, in a manner, the soul of a friend out of mere curiosity; and that it is unpardon able temerity, even in one who is impressed with the fullest conviction of the nonentity of supernatural appearances, to expose himself to any trial by which human ingenuity may put him and his courage to too severe a test.