A tremendous shout or rather yell from away aft, and the sailor who had taken refuge in that direction, now came running forward.
“What’s the matter, Wriggs?” cried the mate.
“Seen his ghost, sir,” groaned the man, who looked ghastly by the light of the lanterns.
“What?” cried the mate, as the three naturalists headed the shout of laughter which rose from the crew.
“Ah, you may laugh,” grumbled the man, wiping the perspiration from his face, “but there it is all twissen up by the wheel and it made a snap at me as I got close up.”
“You’re a duffer,” roared the mate. “Look here, my lads, he has seen the big hawser.”
“No, sir,” cried Wriggs, striking one hand heavily into the other, as a burst of laughter arose. “I see that there sarpent’s sperrit twissen up round the wheel and the binnacle, and if you don’t believe me, go and see. Ah! Look out: here it comes.”
The man made a dash to get right forward out of the way, but, in his excitement, tripped over the body of the serpent lying gently heaving upon the deck, went headlong, yelling in his fear, and rolled over and over to the side.
But little attention was paid to him, the men thinking of nothing else but retreating, for from out of the gloom aft, and making a strange rustling in its serpentine course, a reptile, largely magnified by dread and the gloom, came gliding towards them with its crest raised about eight inches from the planks.
For a moment or two, as the men hurried away, the little party from the cabin stood staring in wonder.