“There’s a ghost in the forecastle, sir.”
I heard the captain literally snort as he smothered an exclamation of anger, and a moment later he asked:
“Where is Mr. Fernald?”
“Gone after the ghost, sir.”
“What do you mean by that?” was the angry question.
“There was a big something white popped up out of the fo’castle, sir, an’ it smelled like a graveyard.”
“There was regular fire come out of its face,” another added, whose imagination was more vivid.
“Let’s go back an’ tell father what we’ve seen,” Simon whispered to me, and I caught at the suggestion eagerly, anxious to hear what explanation the captain might make of the strange thing which had appeared to us.
Silently as possible, lest the men should think we were gone aft talebearing, the lad and I moved back to the break of the quarter-deck, and were close at the captain’s feet before he observed us.