"Put up your hands!" snapped a voice suddenly.
The steward tumbled backward off the rail and plumped down on the deck. A faint howl of terror escaped him as he stared up at the grotesque, horribly-shaped figure whose bulk was intensified by the fog. The figure stood over him, and a rifle poked him in the ribs.
"'Ave mercy!" howled the terrified steward. "I'm a poor, innercent man——"
"Oh, it's you! Didn't know you, steward," said the voice of Dennis. "Where's everybody? Get up, old boy—I'll not hurt you!"
But, recognizing the voice of Dennis, the steward could only emit a horrified gasp.
"Don't 'a'nt me, sir!" he pleaded, folding his hands and getting to his knees in desperate fear. "I didn't 'ave nothink to do wif it, sir——"
"Good heavens, I'm no ghost!" Dennis laughed. "Where's the skipper?"
"Gone, sir," quavered the steward. "Heverybody's gone."
"Where?"
"To fight that 'ere Jap ship, sir."