Chapter Five.
On Fire in the Hold.
I think I must have swooned away with fright, for the next thing I recollect on coming to myself was the steward, Morris Jones, shaking me.
“Rouse up, you lazy lubber!” he roared in my ears. “Rouse up and help me with the cap’en; he’s fell down in a fit, or something!”
Then, I noticed that Jones had a ship’s lantern in his hand, by the dim light of which the cabin was only faintly illuminated; but I could see the water washing about the floor, with a lot of things floating about that had been carried away by the big wave coming in through the broken port in the stern sheets, that was also plainly discernible from the phosphorescent glow of the sea without, which every moment welled up almost on a level with the deck above, as if it were going to fetch inboard again and vamp us altogether.
“Wha—what’s the matter?” I stammered out, half confused at the way in which the steward shook me; and then, recollecting all that had happened, as the fearful sight both the captain and I had seen flashed all at once on my mind, I put my hands before my face shudderingly, exclaiming, “Oh, the ghost! the ghost!”
“The ghost your grandmother!” ejaculated Jones, giving me another rough hustle. “Why, boy, you ain’t awake yet. I’ll douse you in the water, and give you a taste of ‘cold pig,’ if you don’t get up and help me in a minute!”
“But I saw it,” I cried, starting to my feet and looking wildly around to see if the apparition were still there. “I saw it with my own eyes; and so did Captain Snaggs, too!”
“Saw what?”