Sam, the oracle on ghosts, threw himself to the deck, groaning in absurd terror.
"De ship am doomed! De ship am doomed!" he shrieked.
Angelino crossed himself nervously, and a shiver ran through the quaking crowd.
But there is not much superstition in a Yankee bucko, and Black Davis, tilting back his head, hailed the mizzen-top with a roar loud enough to wake the dead.
"Who's thet skylarkin' up thar? Come down, yew ratty hoodlum, or I'll break yew all ter pieces."
Dead silence!
"Up the mizzen riggin', some er yew swine, an' fetch him outer that!" roared the angry mate.
Not a man stirred.
Suddenly the tall form of the bosun appeared on the edge of the group of frightened men, awakened out of his light sleep by the commotion.
"What's up now?" he asked, as he shouldered his way through the men.