“What's the matter with you?” demanded Spike, a little sternly. “You shiver, and yet the water cannot be cold in this latitude. No, my hand makes it just the right warmth to be pleasant.”
“It's not the water, Captain Spike—I wish they would come with the chisel. Did you hear nothing, sir? I'm certain I did!”
“Hear!—what is there here to be heard, unless there may be some fish inside, thrashing about to get out of the vessel's hold?”
“I am sure I heard something like a groan, Captain Spike. I wish you would let me come out, sir, and I'll go for the chisel myself; them men will never find it.”
“Stay where you are, coward! are you afraid of dead men standing against walls? Stay where you are. Ah! here is the chisel—now let us see what you can do with it.”
“I am certain I heard another groan, Captain Spike. I cannot work, sir. I'm of no use here—do let me come out, sir, and send a hand down that can swim.”
Spike uttered a terrible malediction on the miserable carpenter, one we do not care to repeat; then he cast the light of the lantern full in the man's face. The quivering flesh, the pallid face, and the whole countenance wrought up almost to a frenzy of terror, astonished, as well as alarmed him.
“What ails you, man?” said the captain in a voice of thunder. “Clap in the chisel, or I'll hurl you off into the water. There is nothing here, dead or alive, to harm ye!”
“The groan, sir—I hear it again! Do let me come out, Captain Spike.”
Spike himself, this time, heard what even he took for a groan. It came from the depths of the vessel, apparently, and was sufficiently distinct and audible. Astonished, yet appalled, he thrust his shoulders into the aperture, as if to dare the demon that tormented him, and was met by the carpenter endeavouring to escape. In the struggle that ensued, the lantern was dropped into the water, leaving the half-frenzied combatants contending in the dark. The groan was renewed, when the truth flashed on the minds of both.