“Impossible! you must be laughing at me. Here is a letter from our captain to his son—”
“Give it me,” cried Philip, seizing the letter. He was about to break the seal, when Schriften snatched it out of his hand and threw it over the lee gunnel.
“That’s a scurvy trick for an old shipmate,” observed the seaman. Schriften made no reply, but catching up the other letters which Philip had laid down on the capstan, he hurled them after the first.
The strange seaman shed tears, and walked again to the side. “It is very hard—very unkind,” observed he, as he descended; “the time may come when you may wish that your family should know your situation.” So saying, he disappeared. In a few seconds was heard the sound of the oars retreating from the ship.
“Holy St. Antonio!” exclaimed the captain. “I am lost in wonder and fright. Steward, bring me up the arrack.”
The steward ran down for the bottle; being as much alarmed as his captain, he helped himself before he brought it up to his commander. “Now,” said the captain, after keeping his mouth for two minutes to the bottle, and draining it to the bottom, “what is to be done next?”
“I’ll tell you,” said Schriften, going up to him: “that man there has a charm hung round his neck; take it from him and throw it overboard, and your ship will be saved; if not, it will be lost, with every soul on board.”
“Yes yes, it’s all right, depend upon it,” cried the sailors.
“Fools,” replied Philip, “do you believe that wretch? Did you not hear the man who came on board recognise him, and call him shipmate? He is the party whose presence on board will prove so unfortunate.”
“Yes, yes,” cried the sailors, “it’s all right; the man did call him shipmate.”