"I reckon I was dreaming," he said to himself, and then the thought of their lonely position drove everything else from his mind. "We must be out of the track of vessels or one would be in sight by this time; and when the next storm comes up it'll be good-by all hands, for we can't manage a craft like this in a gale. I ain't sure, but——"
"Brig ahoy! ahoy!"
This time there was no mistake. It was a hail hardly more than a whisper, but yet so distinct as to prevent any possibility that it was a trick of the imagination. One would have said it came from the sea directly beneath the brig's stern, and Jim's face grew pale with fear as he looked quickly around without seeing so much as a floating timber.
"There's something wrong about this craft," he muttered, "Sailors don't run away from a sound vessel without a pretty good reason, an' I reckon she's haunted!"
"Brig ahoy! Help a dying man! Ahoy on board!"
The words were spoken more feebly than before, and Jim, thoroughly convinced he had heard something supernatural, awakened his companions by shaking them nervously.
"Get up quick!" he said in a hoarse whisper. "This brig has been hailed three times, an' there isn't even a fly in sight!"
Harry and Walter were on their feet in an instant gazing around in bewilderment; but seeing nothing, and after Jim had told his story, he asked in a voice trembling with fear:
"What shall we do? I'd rather take my chances on the Sally, even if we are out of sight of land, than stay here another minute. This brig has got ghosts aboard!"
"I don't hear anything," Harry said, the bright sun and sparkling water investing the vessel with a sense of life and animation directly at variance with any supposed supernatural visitations. "You're mistaken, Jim, that's all."