And as he said this he jumped out of his berth. As he entered the cabin one glance reassured him partially. The lamps were burning; they had allowed them to burn for this night; the floor was dry. Everything had the same air of comfort which had prevailed when they retired. The motion of the ship was certainly greater, perhaps even much greater; but under any other circumstances it would not have been noticed. This much Bart saw first; and then he noticed a figure bowed over the table, sighing and groaning. It was Solomon. His head was buried in his hands.
“Come,” said Bart, laying his hand on Solomon’s shoulder. “What’s the matter? What’s upset you so?”
Solomon raised his head and grasped Bart’s arm convulsively in both of his hands.
“Dar’s ghosts about!”
“Ghosts?
“Yes, Mas’r Bart; d-d-d-dars g-g-ghosts a-b-b-b-bout,” said Solomon, with a shudder and with chattering teeth.
“Pooh! nonsense! What do you mean?” asked Bart.
By this time all the other boys were out in the cabin. They had all gone to bed with their clothes on, and stood now wide awake and prepared for any emergency. They all stared fixedly at Solomon, expecting to hear some dreadful disclosure. They had never before seen him so completely upset.
“Dar’s g-g-ghosts a-b-b-b-b-b-b-oard,” said Solomon. “I went to bed. I waked at de row dey made down below, in de hole.”
“What, in the hold?”