As he said this, Tom Bullover reached up his hand overhead by the door of the galley, above the spot where he was standing, and as our eyes followed his motions we all could see now Sam’s banjo hanging on the cleat where it always used to be when the negro cook occupied the caboose, the instrument swinging to and fro as Tom touched it.
“Wa-all, I’m jiggered!” cried Hiram, taking up the lantern that he had placed on the deck when he returned from the fo’c’s’le and flashing it on the suspended object, to make assurance doubly sure. “Thaar it air, sure enuff; an’ all I ken say is, I’m jiggered! It jest licks creation, thet it dew!”
“Lor’ bless you, mate! you could ha’ seed it afore if you’d only used your eyes,” replied Tom to this exordium, laughing again; “but, let’s stow all such flummery now about ghostesses an’ sich like, for it’s all moonshine when you looks into the matter; an’ you, an’ Charley, an’ the stooard here, have been all busy rigging up ‘duppies,’ as poor Sam used to call ’em, out o’ your heads, when we poor beggars forrud are dyin’ for our tea. Ain’t it ready yet?”
“Aye, bo, in a brace o’ shakes,” said Hiram, rousing himself and polling up the fire. “I dessay I’m a doggoned fool to be skeart like thet, but I’d hev taken my davy I put the durned thing in my chest a month ago—I would so; an’ then the stooard comed in with his yarn on top o’ what Cholly sed o’ seein’ Sam’s ghost t’other day, an’—an’ I’m a durned fool; thet’s all I sez!”
“You’re none the worse for that, bo,” observed Tom, with a grin at the American’s rather shamefaced apology foe his superstitious fears; and Hiram presently joined in the laugh against himself, as he busied himself in stirring the coppers and tasting the tea, to see whether it was all right yet. I, also, began to feel more comfortable in my mind; while a little colour crept into Morris Jones’ pale face, which had become as white as a sheet before Tom’s advent on the scene, the steward looking as if he were going to faint from fright.
It is wonderful what an effect the courage of one man has in restoring the confidence of others under such circumstances!
Bustling about the galley, ladling out the contents of the coppers as the men came up one by one with their pannikins for their tea, I quickly forgot my scare of a minute or so agone. So, too, apparently, did the steward, who commenced preparing the captain’s dinner, as soon as the fire had burnt up and he could get space enough to use his frying-pan; while, as for Hiram, he was singing away in fine style at his work, dishing up some lobscouse for the men’s supper, in friendly rivalry of Morris Jones, whom he could ‘give points to’ and easily beat in the cooking line, none of us troubling ourselves any longer with any recollection of poor Sam Jedfoot or his ghost.
The gale continued to ease down, and the heavy, rolling sea gradually subsided as night sped on; but, the wind veering round in the middle watch more to the northwards of west, we had to come about on the port tack, steering west-nor’-west, more in towards the Cape. We had plenty of sea room to do this, though, from the good offing we had previously made, being at least five or six degrees well to the southward of the stormy headland at our last reckoning, before the gale came on.
All next day the men were busy getting up a couple of old topsails out of the forepeak and patching them up to take the place of those that had been blown away; and these when got up were close-reefed beforehand, prior to being set, as the wind was freshening again and the weather looked squally.
At the beginning of the second dog-watch the same afternoon, just when we had got everything snug aloft, it came on to blow again, although not quite so fiercely as the previous evening; and it was a case of clew up and furl with all the lighter canvas, the ship being kept under close-reefed topsails and storm staysails, heading out again to sea on the starboard tack.