“I jest made tracks for the fo’c’s’le, an’ turned inter my bunk, I wer so skeart, till the skipper an’ the rest o’ the hands came aboard ag’in, when I comed out an’ stood hyar a-waitin’ fur ye. I ain’t seed Tom Bullover yet; so ye’re the fust I hev told o’ the sperrit hauntin’ us agen, Cholly.”
“Do you think it’s gone yet?” I asked; “perhaps it is still there.”
“I dunno,” he replied. “P’raps ye’d best go fur to see. I’m jiggered if I will!”
I hesitated at this challenge; it was more than I bargained for.
“It’s all dark now,” I said, glancing towards the galley, from which no gleam came, as usual, across the deck, as was generally the case at night-time; “I suppose the fire has gone out?”
“’S’pose it air,” answered Hiram; “guess it’s about time it wer, b’y, considerin’ I wer jest a-going fur to make it up when I seed Sam. I reckon, though, if ye hev a mind fur to look in, ye can get a lantern aft from the stooard. I seed him a-buzzin’ round the poop jest now, fur he hailed me ez he poked his long jib-boom of a nose up the companion; but, I didn’t take no notice o’ the cuss, fur I wer outer sorts like, feelin’ right down chawed up!”
“All right,” said I, anxious to display my courage before Hiram, his fright somehow or other emboldening me. “I will get a lantern at once and go into the galley.”
So saying, I went along the deck aft, passing into the cuddy by the door under the break of the poop, and there I found Morris Jones, the steward, in the pantry.
He was putting a decanter and glass on a tray for the captain, who was sitting in the cabin, preparing for a jollification after his exertions of the day; for he had returned in high glee from his inspection of the ship’s position with Jan Steenbock, whom he took with him to explain the different points of land and the anchorage.
Jan Steenbock was just leaving the skipper as I entered, refusing, as I surmised from the conversation, his pressing invitation to have a parting drink—a sign of great cordiality with him.