To most of the boys and enlisted men it was all a huge joke; nevertheless there were enough of the crew really superstitious for the tale of the clock-ticking sound to interfere with the general morale of the ship's company.
The chief master-at-arms finally made what he deemed a thorough investigation of the report. But it was evident that he had made up his mind to counteract the influence of the strange sound upon the men by denying its existence.
This, of course, did no good at all. The men, or, at least, some of them, could hear the "tick-tock! tick-tock! tick-tock!" for themselves. Those who wandered into the room where the lumber was stowed were strongly impressed by the unexplained sounds. By and by the men as a rule fought shy of entering that part of the ship.
When Whistler was told by Frenchy and Ikey that they had first heard the "ghost-clock" after the subsiding of the storm, he declared it to be nonsense, pure and simple.
"Don't you fellows forget the scare we all got aboard the Graf von Posen over that old lead coffin in her hold? I should think you would know better than to circulate such yarns about the ship," he declared in some heat.
"We didn't say a word about it," Frenchy denied. "Only to you and Torry. Seven Knott started the row, not us."
"And he ought to be keelhauled for it," growled Torry.
Nothing would satisfy Frenchy and Ikey, however, until Phil and Al went down with them to listen to the strange sound themselves. It was there, all right. When their ears became used to the steady thumping of the engines, they were able to distinguish the clock-like noise.
"It's some trick," declared Torrance, with conviction. "Sure you chaps haven't started a joke on us?"
"No joke!" denied Ikey.