“The old cabin boy’s, Tom Dalton’s.”
“Where?” he demanded.
“At the little bull’s-eye glass in the forecastle spirit room.”
The man’s manner was so earnest that Morris looked half convinced.
Jack Marcy had overheard the conversation, and looked deeply concerned.
“It’s all up with the boys if the Captain believes him,” he muttered.
He at once discerned what had happened. Tom Dalton, peering out of the window of the spirit room, had been seen by the sailor Allen.
“Here, Jack Marcy, where’s the key to the spirit room?”
“You ain’t going to pay attention to Allen’s nonsense, are you, captain?” asked Jack, with assumed carelessness.
“Yes, I am. Here, you, Allen, we’ll hunt for this spirit that haunts the ship.”