The day was fine, and the breeze so light that the old patched sailswere taking the schooner along at a gentle three knots per hour. A sailor two shone like snow in the offing, and a gull hovered in the airastern. From the cabin to the galley, and from the galley to the untidytangle in the bows, there was no sign of anybody to benefit by theconversation of the skipper and mate as they discussed a wicked andmutinous spirit which had become observable in the crew.
"It's sheer rank wickedness, that's what it is," said the skipper, asmall elderly man, with grizzled beard and light blue eyes.
"Rank," agreed the mate, whose temperament was laconic.
"Why, when I was a boy you wouldn't believe what I had to eat," said theskipper; "not if I took my Bible oath on it, you wouldn't."
"They're dainty," said the mate.
"Dainty!" said the other indignantly. "What right have hungry sailormento be dainty? Don't I give them enough to eat? Look! Look there!"
He drew back, choking, and pointed with his forefinger as Bill Smith,A.B., came on deck with a plate held at arm's length, and a nosedisdainfully elevated. He affected not to see the skipper, and, walkingin a mincing fashion to the side, raked the food from the plate into thesea with his fingers. He was followed by George Simpson, A.B., who inthe same objectionable fashion wasted food which the skipper hadintended should nourish his frame.
"I'll pay 'em for this!" murmured the skipper.
"There's some more," said the mate.
Two more men came on deck, grinning consciously, and disposed of theirdinners. Then there was an interval--an interval in which everybody,fore and aft, appeared to be waiting for something; the something beingat that precise moment standing at the foot of the foc'sle ladder,trying to screw its courage up.
"If the boy comes," said the skipper in a strained, unnatural voice,"I'll flay him alive."
"You'd better get your knife out then," said the mate.
The boy appeared on deck, very white about the gills, and lookingpiteously at the crew for support. He became conscious from their scowlsthat he had forgotten something, and remembering himself, stretched outhis skinny arms to their full extent, and, crinkling his nose, walkedwith great trepidation to the side.
"Boy!" vociferated the skipper suddenly.
"Yessir," said the urchin hastily.
"Comm'ere," said the skipper sternly.
"Shove your dinner over first," said four low, menacing voices.
The boy hesitated, then walked slowly towards the skipper.
"What are you going to do with that dinner?" demanded the latter grimly.
"Eat it," said the youth modestly.
"What d'yer bring it on deck for, then?" inquired the other, bending hisbrows on him.
"I thought it would taste better on deck, sir," said the boy.
"Taste better!" growled the skipper ferociously. "Ain't it good?"
"Yessir," said the boy.
"Speak louder," said the skipper sternly. "Is it very good?"
"Beautiful," said the boy in a shrill falsetto.
"Did you ever taste better wittles than you get aboard this ship?"demanded the skipper, setting him a fine example in loud speaking.
"Never," yelled the boy, following it.
"Everything as it should be?" roared the skipper.
"Better than it should be," shrilled the craven.
"Sit down and eat it," commanded the other.
The boy sat on the cabin skylight, and, taking out his pocket-knife,began his meal with every appearance of enjoyment, the skipper, with hiselbows on the side, and his legs crossed, regarding him serenely.
"I suppose," he said loudly, after watching the boy for some time, "Is'pose the men threw theirs overboard becos they hadn't been used tosuch good food?"
"Yessir," said the boy.
"Did they say so?" bawled the other.
The boy hesitated, and glanced nervously forward. "Yessir," he said atlength, and shuddered as a low, ominous growl came from the crew.Despite his slowness, the meal came to an end at last, and, in obedienceto orders, he rose, and taking his plate forward, looked entreatingly atthe crew as he passed them.
"Come down below," said Bill; "we want to have a talk with you."
"Can't," said the boy. "I've got my work to do. I haven't got time totalk."
He stayed up on deck until evening, and then, the men's anger havingevaporated somewhat, crept softly below, and climbed into his bunk.Simpson leaned over and made a clutch at him, but Bill pushed him aside.
"Leave him alone," said he quietly; "we'll take it out of himto-morrow."
For some time Tommy lay worrying over the fate in store for him, andthen, yielding to fatigue, turned over and slept soundly until he wasawakened some three hours later by the men's voices, and, looking out,saw that the lamp was alight and the crew at supper, listening quietlyto Bill, who was speaking.
"I've a good mind to strike, that's what I've a good mind to do," hesaid savagely, as, after an attempt at the butter, he put it aside andate dry biscuit.
"An' get six months," said old Ned. "That won't do, Bill."
"Are we to go a matter of six or seven days on dry biscuit and rottentaters?" demanded the other fiercely. "Why, it's slow sooicide."
"I wish one of you would commit sooicide," said Ned, looking wistfullyround at the faces, "that 'ud frighten the old man, and bring him rounda bit."
"Well, you're the eldest," said Bill pointedly.
"Drowning's a easy death too," said Simpson persuasively. "You can'thave much enjoyment in life at your age, Ned?"
"And you might leave a letter behind to the skipper, saying as 'ow youwas drove to it by bad food," said the cook, who was getting excited.
"Talk sense!" said the old man very shortly.
"Look here," said Bill suddenly. "I tell you what we can do: let one ofus pretend to commit suicide, and write a letter as Slushy here ses,saying as 'ow we're gone overboard sooner than be starved to death. It'ud scare the old man proper; and p'raps he'd let us start on the othermeat without eating up this rotten stuff first."
"How's it to be done?" asked Simpson, staring.
"Go an' 'ide down the fore 'old," said Bill. "There's not much stuffdown there. We'll take off the hatch when one of us is on watchto-night, and--whoever wants to--can go and hide down there till the oldman's come to his senses. What do you think of it, mates?"
"It's all right as an idea," said Ned slowly, "but who's going?"
"Tommy," replied Bill simply.
"Blest if I ever thought of him," said Ned admiringly; "did you,cookie?"
"Never crossed my mind," said the cook.
"You see the best o' Tommy's going," said Bill, "is that the old man 'udonly give him a flogging if he found it out. We wouldn't split as to whoput the hatch on over him. He can be there as comfortable as you please,do nothing, and sleep all day if he likes. O' course we don't knowanything about it, we miss Tommy, and find the letter wrote on thistable."
The cook leaned forward and regarded his colleague favourably; then hepursed his lips, and nodded significantly at an upper bunk from whichthe face of Tommy, pale and scared, looked anxiously down.
"Halloa!" said Bill, "have you heard what we've been saying?"
"I heard you say something about going to drown old Ned," said Tommyguardedly.
"He's heard all about it," said the cook severely. "Do you know wherelittle boys who tell lies go to, Tommy?"
"I'd sooner go there than down the fore 'old," said Tommy, beginning toknuckle his eyes. "I won't go. I'll tell the skipper."
"No you won't," said Bill sternly. "This is your punishment for themlies you told about us to-day, an' very cheap you've got off too. Now,get out o' that bunk. Come on afore I pull you out."
With a miserable whimper the youth dived beneath his blankets, and,clinging frantically to the edge of his berth, kicked convulsively as hewas lifted down, blankets and all, and accommodated with a seat at thetable.
"Pen and ink and paper, Ned
," said Bill.
The old man produced them, and Bill, first wiping off with hiscoat-sleeve a piece of butter which the paper had obtained from thetable, spread it before the victim.
"I can't write," said Tommy suddenly.
The men looked at each other in dismay.
"It's a lie," said the cook.
"I tell you I can't," said the urchin, becoming hopeful; "that's whythey sent me to sea, becos I couldn't read or write."
"Pull his ear, Bill," said Ned, annoyed at these aspersions upon anhonourable profession.
"It don't matter," said Bill calmly. "I'll write it for 'im; the old mandon't know my fist."
He sat down at the table, and, squaring his shoulders, took a noisy dipof ink, and scratching his head, looked pensively at the paper.
"Better spell it bad, Bill," suggested Ned.
"Ay, ay," said the other. "'Ow do you think a boy would spell'sooicide,' Ned?"
The old man pondered. "S-o-o-e-y-s-i-d-e," he said slowly.
"Why, that's the right way, ain't it?" inquired the cook, looking fromone to the other.
"We mustn't spell it right," said Bill, with his pen hovering over thepaper. "Be careful, Ned."
"We'll say 'killed myself instead,'" said the old man. "A boy wouldn'tuse such a big word as that p'raps."
Bill bent over his work, and, apparently paying great attention to hisfriends' entreaties not to write it too well, slowly wrote the letter.
"How's this?" he inquired, sitting back in his seat.
"'Deer captin i take my pen in hand for the larst time to innform youthat i am no more suner than heat the 'orrible stuff what you kail meeti have drownded miself it is a moor easy death than starvin' i 'ave leftmy clasp nife to bill an' my silver wotch to it is 'ard too dee so youngtommie brown.'"
"Splendid!" said Ned, as the reader finished and looked inquiringlyround.
"I put in that bit about the knife and the watch to make it seem real,"said Bill, with modest pride; "but, if you like, I'll leave 'em to youinstead, Ned."
"I don't want 'em," said the old man generously.
"Put your cloes on," said Bill, turning to the whimpering Tommy.
"I'm not going down that fore 'old," said Tommy desperately. "You may aswell know now as later on--I won't go."
"Cookie," said Bill calmly, "just 'and me them cloes, will you? Now,Tommy."
"I tell you I'm not going to," said Tommy.
"An' that little bit o' rope, cookie," said Bill; "it's just down byyour 'and. Now, Tommy."
The youngest member of the crew looked from his clothes to the rope, andfrom the rope back to his clothes again.
"How 'm I goin' to be fed?" he demanded sullenly, as he began to dress.
"You'll have a stone bottle o' water to take down with you an' somebiskits," replied Bill, "an' of a night-time we'll hand you down some o'that meat you're so fond of. Hide 'em behind the cargo, an' if you hearanybody take the hatch off in the daytime, nip behind it yourself."
"An' what about fresh air?" demanded the sacrifice.
"You'll 'ave fresh air of a night when the hatch is took off," saidBill. "Don't you worry, I've thought of everything."
The arrangements being concluded, they waited until Simpson relieved themate at the helm, and then trooped up on deck, half pushing and halfleading their reluctant victim.
"It's just as if he was going on a picnic," said old Ned, as the boystood unwillingly on the deck, with a stone bottle in one hand and somebiscuits wrapped up in an old newspaper in the other.
"Lend a 'and, Bill. Easy does it."
Noiselessly the two seamen took off the hatch, and, as Tommy declined tohelp in the proceedings at all, Ned clambered down first to receive him.Bill took him by the scruff of the neck and lowered him, kickingstrongly, into the hold.
"Have you got him?" he inquired.
"Yes," said Ned in a smothered voice, and, depositing the boy in thehold, hastily clambered up again, wiping his mouth.
"Been having a swig at the bottle?" inquired Bill.
"Boy's heel," said Ned very shortly. "Get the hatch on."
The hatch was replaced, and Bill and his fellow conspirator, treadingquietly and not without some apprehension for the morrow, went below andturned in. Tommy, who had been at sea long enough to take things as hefound them, curled up in the corner of the hold, and with his bottle asa pillow fell asleep.
It was not until eight o'clock next morning that the master of theSunbeam discovered that he was a boy short. He questioned the cook as hesat at breakfast The cook, who was a very nervous man, turned pale, setthe coffee-pot down with a thump which upset some of the liquor, andbolted up on deck. The skipper, after shouting for him in some of themost alluring swear words known on the high seas, went raging up ondeck, where he found the men standing in a little knot, looking very illat ease.
"Bill," said the skipper uneasily, "what's the matter with that damnedcook?"
"'E's 'ad a shock, sir," said Bill, shaking his head; "we've all 'ad ashock."
"You'll have another in a minute," said the skipper emotionally."Where's the boy?"
For a moment Bill's hardihood forsook him, and he looked helplessly athis mates. In their anxiety to avoid his gaze they looked over the side,and a horrible fear came over the skipper. He looked at Bill mutely, andBill held out a dirty piece of paper.
The skipper read it through in a state of stupefaction, then he handedit to the mate, who had followed him on deck. The mate read it andhanded it back.
"It's yours," he said shortly.
"I don't understand it," said the skipper, shaking his head. "Why, onlyyesterday he was up on deck here eating his dinner, and saying it wasthe best meat he ever tasted. You heard him, Bob?"
"I heard him, pore little devil!" said the mate.
"You all heard him," said the skipper. "Well, there's five witnessesI've got. He must have been mad. Didn't nobody hear him go overboard?"
"I 'eard a splash, sir, in my watch," said Bill.
"Why didn't you run and see what it was?" demanded the other.
"I thought it was one of the chaps come up to throw his supperoverboard," said Bill simply.
"Ah!" said the skipper, biting his lip, "did you? You're always going onabout the grub. What's the matter with it?"
"It's pizon, sir," said Ned, shaking his head. "The meat's awful."
"It's as sweet as nuts," said the skipper. "Well, you can have it out ofthe other tank if you like. Will that satisfy you?"
The men brightened up a little and nudged each other.
"The butter's bad too, sir," said Bill.
"Butter bad!" said the skipper, frowning. "How's that, cook?"
"I ain't done nothing to it, sir," said the cook helplessly.
"Give 'em butter out o' the firkin in the cabin," growled the skipper."It's my firm belief you'd been ill-using that boy; the food wasdelicious."
He walked off, taking the letter with him, and, propping it up againstthe sugar-basin, made but a poor breakfast.
For that day the men lived, as Ned put it, on the fat of the land, inaddition to the other luxuries. Figgy duff, a luxury hitherto reservedfor Sundays, being also served out to them. Bill was regarded as abig-brained benefactor of the human race; joy reigned in the foc'sle,and at night the hatch was taken off and the prisoner regaled with aportion which had been saved for him. He ate it ungratefully, and putchurlish and inconvenient questions as to what was to happen at the endof the voyage.
"Well smuggle you ashore all right," said Bill; "none of us are going tosign back in this old tub. I'll take you aboard some ship with me--Eh?"
"I didn't say anything," said Tommy untruthfully.
To the wrath and confusion of the crew, next day their commandingofficer put them back on the old diet again. The old meat was againserved out, and the grass-fed luxury from the cabin stopped. Bill sharedthe fate of all leaders when things go wrong, and, from being the idolof his fellows, became a butt for their gibes.
"What ab
out your little idea now?" grunted old Ned, scornfully, thatevening as he broke his biscuit roughly with his teeth, and dropped itinto his basin of tea.
"You ain't as clever as you thought you was, Bill," said the cook withthe air of a discoverer.
"And there's that pore dear boy shut up in the dark for nothing," saidSimpson, with somewhat belated thoughtfulness. "An' cookie doing hiswork."
"I'm not going to be beat," said Bill blackly; "the old man was badlyscared yesterday. We must have another sooicide, that's all."
"Let Tommy do it again," suggested the cook flippantly, and they alllaughed.
"Two on one trip 'll about do the old man up," said Bill, regarding theinterruption unfavourably. "Now, who's going to be the next?"
"We've had enough o' this game," said Simpson, shrugging his shoulders;"you've gone cranky, Bill."
"No I ain't," said Bill; "I'm not going to be beat, that's all. Whoevergoes down, they'll have a nice, easy, lazy time. Sleep all day if helikes, and nothing to do. You ain't been looking very well lately, Ned."
"Oh?" said the old man coldly.
"Well, settle it between you," said Bill carelessly; "it's all one tome, which of you goes."
"Ho, an' what about you?" demanded Simpson.
"Me?" inquired Bill in astonishment. "Why, I've got to stay up here andmanage it."
"Well, we'll stay up and help you," said Simpson derisively.
Ned and the cook laughed, Simpson joined in. Bill rose, and, going tohis bunk, fished out a pack of greasy cards from beneath his bedding.
"Larst cut, sooicide," he said briefly, "I'm in it."
He held the pack before the cook. The cook hesitated, and looked at theother two.
"Don't be a fool, Bill," said Simpson.
"Why, do you funk it?" sneered Bill.
"It's a fool's game, I tell you," said Simpson.
"Well, you 'elped me start it," said the other. "You're afraid, that'swhat you are,--afraid. You can let the boy go down there, but when itcomes to yourselves you turn chicken-'arted."
"All right," said Simpson recklessly, "let Bill 'ave 'is way; cut,cookie."
Sorely against his will the cook complied, and drew a ten; Ned, aftermuch argument, cut and drew seven; Simpson, with a king in his fist,leaned back on the locker and fingered his beard nonchalantly. "Go on,Bill," he said; "see what you can do."
Bill took the pack and shuffled it "I orter be able to beat seven," hesaid slowly. He handed the pack to Ned, drew a card, and the other threesat back and laughed boisterously.
"Three!" said Simpson. "Bravo, Bill! I'll write your letter for you;he'd know your writing. What shall I say?"
"Say what you like," retorted Bill, breathing hard as he thought of thehold.
He sat back sneering disdainfully, as the other three merrily sat downto compose his letter, replying only by a contemptuous silence whenSimpson asked him whether he wanted any kisses put in. When the letterwas handed over for his inspection he only made one remark.
"I thought you could write better than that, George," he said haughtily.
"I'm writing it for you," said Simpson.
Bill's hauteur vanished and he became his old self again. "If you want aplug in the eye, George," he said feelingly, "you've only got to say so,you know."
His temper was so unpleasant that half the pleasure of the evening wasspoiled, and instead of being conducted to his hiding-place with quipsand light laughter, the proceedings were more like a funeral thananything else. The crowning touch to his ill-nature was furnished byTommy, who upon coming up and learning that Bill was to be hisroom-mate, gave way to a fit of the most unfeigned horror.
"There's another letter for you this morning," said the mate, as theskipper came out of his stateroom buttoning up his waistcoat.
"Another what?" demanded the other, turning pale.
The mate jerked his thumb upwards. "Old Ned has got it," he continued."I can't think what's come over the men."
The skipper dashed up on deck, and mechanically took the letter from Nedand read it through. He stood for some time like a man in a dream, andthen stumbled down the forecastle, and looked in all the bunks and evenunder the table; then he came up and stood by the hold, with his head onone side. The men held their breath.
"What's the meaning of all this?" he demanded at length, sitting limplyon the hatch, with his eyes down.
"Bad grub, sir," said Simpson, gaining courage from his manner; "that'swhat we'll have to say when we get ashore."
"You're not to say a word about it!" said the other, firing up.
"It's our dooty, sir," said Ned impressively.
"Look here now," said the skipper, and he looked at the remainingmembers of the crew entreatingly. "Don't let's have no more suicides.The old meat's gone now, and you can start the other, and when we get toport I'll ship in some fresh butter and vegetables. But I don't want youto say anything about the food being bad, or about these letters, whenwe get to port I shall simply say the two of 'em disappeared, an' I wantyou to say the same."
"It can't be done, sir," said Simpson firmly.
The skipper rose and walked to the side. "Would a fi'pun note make anydifference?" he asked in a low voice.
"It 'ud make a little difference," said Ned cautiously.
The skipper looked up at Simpson. On the face of Simpson was anexpression of virtuous arithmetical determination.
The skipper looked down again. "Or a fi'pun note each?" he said, in alow voice. "I can't go beyond that."
"Call it twenty pun and it's a bargain, ain't it, mates?" said Simpson.
Ned said it was, and even the cook forgot his nervousness, and said itwas evident the skipper meant to do the generous thing, and they'd standby him.
"Where's the money coming from?" inquired the mate, as the skipper wentdown to breakfast, and discussed the matter with him. "They wouldn't getnothing out of me!"
The skylight was open; the skipper with a glance at it bent forward andwhispered in his ear.
"Wot!" said the mate. He endeavoured to suppress his laughter with hotcoffee and bacon, with the result that he had to rise from his seat andstand patiently while the skipper dealt him some hearty thumps on theback.
With the prospect of riches before them the men cheerfully faced theextra work; the cook did the boy's, while Ned and Simpson did Bill'sbetween them. When night came they removed the hatch again, and with alittle curiosity waited to hear how their victims were progressing.
"Where's my dinner?" growled Bill hungrily, as he drew himself up ondeck.
"Dinner!" said Ned, in surprise; "why, you ain't got none."
"Wot?" said Bill ferociously.
"You see the skipper only serves out for three now," said the cook.
"Well, why didn't you save us some?" demanded the other.
"There ain't enough of it, Bill, there ain't indeed," said Ned. "We haveto do more work now, and there ain't enough even for us. You've gotbiscuit and water, haven't you?"
Bill swore at him.
"I've 'ad enough o' this," he said fiercely. "I'm coming up, let the oldman do what he likes. I don't care."
"Don't do that, Bill," said the old man persuasively. "Everything'sgoing beautiful. You was quite right what you said about the old man. Wewas wrong. He's skeered fearful, and he's going to give us twenty pun tosay nothing about it when we get ashore."
"I'm going to have ten out o' that," said Bill, brightening a little,"and it's worth it too. I get the 'orrors shut up down there all day."
"Ay, ay," said Ned, with a side kick at the cook, who was about toquestion Bill's method of division.
"The old man sucked it all in beautiful," said the cook. "He's in adreadful way. He's got all your clothes and things, and the boy's, andhe's going to 'and 'em over to your friends. It's the best joke I everheard."
"You're a fool!" said Bill shortly, and lighting his pipe went andsquatted in the bows to wrestle grimly with a naturally bad temper.
For the ensuing four days thing
s went on smoothly enough. The weatherbeing fair, the watch at night was kept by the men, and regularly theyhad to go through the unpleasant Jack-in-the-box experience of takingthe lid off Bill. The sudden way he used to pop out and rate them abouthis sufferings and their callousness was extremely trying, and it wasonly by much persuasion and reminders of his share of the hush-moneythat they could persuade him to return again to his lair at daybreak.
Still undisturbed they rounded the Land's End. The day had been closeand muggy, but towards night the wind freshened, and the schooner beganto slip at a good pace through the water. The two prisoners, glad toescape from the stifling atmosphere of the hold, sat in the bows with anappetite which the air made only too keen for the preparations made tosatisfy it.
Ned was steering, and the other two men having gone below and turned in,there were no listeners to their low complaints about the food.
"It's a fool's game, Tommy," said Bill, shaking his head.
"Game?" said Tommy, sniffing. "'Ow are we going to get away when we getto Northsea?"
"You leave that to me," said Bill. "Old Ned seems to ha' got a badcough," he added.
"He's choking, I should think," said Tommy, leaning forward. "Look! he'swaving his hand at us."
Both sprang up hastily, but ere they could make any attempt to escapethe skipper and mate emerged from the companion and walked towards them.
"Look here," said the skipper, turning to the mate, and indicating theculprits with his hand; "perhaps you'll disbelieve in dreams now."
"'Straordinary!" said the mate, rubbing his eyes, as Bill stood sullenlywaiting events, while the miserable Tommy skulked behind him.
"I've heard o' such things," continued the skipper, in impressive tones,"but I never expected to see it You can't say you haven't seen a ghostnow, Bob."
"'Straordinary!" said the mate, shaking his head again. "Lifelike!"
"The ship's haunted, Ned," cried the skipper in hollow tones. "Here'sthe sperrits o' Bill and the boy standing agin the windlass."
The bewildered old seaman made no reply; the smaller spirit sniffed andwiped his nose on his cuff, and the larger one began to whistle softly.
"Poor things!" said the skipper, after they had discussed theseextraordinary apparitions for some time. "Can you see the windlassthrough the boy, Bob?"
"I can see through both of 'em," said the mate slyly.
They stayed on deck a little longer, and then coming to the conclusionthat their presence on deck could do no good, and indeed seemed only toembarrass their visitors, went below again, leaving all hands a prey tothe wildest astonishment.
"Wot's 'is little game?" asked Simpson, coming cautiously up on deck.
"Damned if I know," said Bill savagely.
"He don't really think you're ghosts?" suggested the cook feebly.
"O' course not," said Bill scornfully. "He's got some little game on.Well, I'm going to my bunk. You'd better come too, Tommy. We'll find outwhat it all means to-morrer, I've no doubt."
On the morrow they received a little enlightenment, for after breakfastthe cook came forward nervously to break the news that meat andvegetables had only been served out for three. Consternation fell uponall.
"I'll go an' see 'im," said Bill ravenously.
He found the skipper laughing heartily over something with the mate. Atthe seaman's approach he stepped back and eyed him coolly.
"Mornin', sir," said Bill, shuffling up. "We'd like to know, sir, me an'Tommy, whether we can have our rations for dinner served out now same asbefore?"
"Dinner?" said the skipper in surprise. "What do you want dinner for?"
"Eat," said Bill, eyeing him reproachfully.
"Eat?" said the skipper. "What's the good o' giving dinner to a ghost?Why you've got nowhere to put it."
By dint of great self-control Bill smiled in a ghastly fashion, andpatted his stomach.
"All air," said the skipper turning away.
"Can we have our clothes and things then?" said Bill grinding his teeth."Ned says as how you've got 'em."
"Certainly not," said the skipper. "I take 'em home and give 'em to yournext o' kin. That's the law, ain't it, Bob?"
"It is," said the mate.
"They'll 'ave your effects and your pay up to the night you committedsuicide," said the skipper.
"We didn't commit sooicide," said Bill; "how could we when we'restanding here?"
"Oh, yes, you did," said the other. "I've got your letters in my pocketto prove it; besides, if you didn't I should give you in charge fordesertion directly we get to port."
He exchanged glances with the mate, and Bill, after standing first onone leg and then on the other, walked slowly away. For the rest of themorning he stayed below setting the smaller ghost a bad example in theway of language, and threatening his fellows with all sorts of fearfulpunishments.
Until dinner-time the skipper heard no more of them, but he had justfinished that meal and lit his pipe when he heard footsteps on the deck,and the next moment old Ned, hot and angry, burst into the cabin.
"Bill's stole our dinner, sir," he panted unceremoniously.
"Who?" inquired the skipper coldly.
"Bill, sir, Bill Smith," replied Ned.
"Who?" inquired the skipper more coldly than before.
"The ghost o' Bill Smith," growled Ned, correcting himself savagely,"has took our dinner away, an' him an' the ghost o' Tommy Brown is asitting down and boltin' of it as fast as they can bolt."
"Well, I don't see what I can do," said the skipper lazily. "What 'd youlet 'em for?"
"You know what Bill is, sir," said Ned. "I'm an old man, cook's no good,and unless Simpson has a bit o' raw beef for his eyes, he won't be ableto see for a week."
"Rubbish!" said the skipper jocularly. "Don't tell me, three men allafraid o' one ghost. I shan't interfere. Don't you know what to do?"
"No, sir," said Ned eagerly.
"Go up and read the Prayer-book to him, and he'll vanish in a cloud ofsmoke," said the skipper.
Ned gazed at him for a moment speechlessly, and then going up on deckleaned over the side and swore himself faint. The cook and Simpson cameup and listened respectfully, contenting themselves with an occasionalsuggestion when the old man's memory momentarily failed him.
For the rest of the voyage the two culprits suffered all theinconvenience peculiar to a loss of citizenship. The skipper blandlyignored them, and on two or three occasions gave great offence byattempting to walk through Bill as he stood on the deck. Speculation wasrife in the forecastle as to what would happen when they got ashore, andit was not until Northsea was sighted that the skipper showed his hand.Then he appeared on deck with their effects done up neatly in twobundles, and pitched them on the hatches. The crew stood and eyed himexpectantly.
"Ned," said the skipper sharply.
"Sir," said the old man.
"As soon as we're made fast," said the other, "I want you to go ashorefor me and fetch an undertaker and a policeman. I can't quite make up mymind which we want."
"Ay, ay, sir," murmured the old man.
The skipper turned away, and seizing the helm from the mate took hisship in. He was so intent upon this business that he appeared not tonotice the movements of Bill and Tommy as they edged nervously towardstheir bundles, and waited impatiently for the schooner to get alongsidethe quay. Then he turned to the mate and burst into a loud laugh as thecouple, bending suddenly, snatched up their bundles, and, clambering upthe side ashore and took to their heels. The mate too, and a faint butmirthless echo came from the other end of the schooner.
A DISCIPLINARIAN