"Ghost? What do you mean?"
"Him," replied Tim, pointing a shaking finger at Bob. "Didn't we see him drown, an' now ain't he here ahead of us to haunt us? Let me go, cap'n."
He was about to run off again, but Bob, who began to understand the superstitious rears of the man, called out:
"It's me, Tim! I'm alive, all right!"
The sailor paused, turned, and, after a long and rather doubting look at the boy, came slowly bade.
"Well, maybe it's all right," he said, "but it's mighty queer.
How'd ye git here?"
"Swam until I struck land. But how did you get here, captain?" and
Bob clasped his relative warmly by the hand.
"Our boat must have been close to the island when it capsized," replied the former commander of the Eagle. "A big wave did the business for us, and then it was every man for himself. Poor Tarbill, he's lost, and so is Pete Bascom. We'll never see either of 'em again. And I'm afraid the rest of the crew are gone, too. No boat could live long in that sea."
"Mr. Tarbill is alive," said Bob.
"How do you know?"