“Yo’ kaint fool dis chile dat ’er way,� he said, “ah knows too much of der mysteriferiousness of der prognosticatius. Dats de science ob ghostesses. Yo’ all went to der same place as dat puddin’ done go when de spooks took it.�
It was no use to try to argue with the old negro. Ever since the night the boys had tried to escape, Pompey’s naturally superstitious mind had conceived the idea that the Polly Ann was “hanted.� Nothing would drive it out of his head.
Terror Carson made no further advances to Raynor. In fact, the next day he hardly appeared to notice the boy who had saved his life by his quick wit and action. But Raynor did not worry about that. In fact, the less attention he received from the seal poacher, the better pleased he was.
The next day they found themselves enveloped in floes of ice. The wind blew hard and cold too. Suddenly, while they were crunching through the floating floes, the look-out gave a loud hail.
“Land ho!�
The shout was echoed by a score of voices. It brought a thrill to Raynor, who ran to the galley door. Across the ice floes he could make out a rough, low-lying, rocky island. The waves dashed against some low cliffs in clouds of white spray. A few sea birds hovered, wheeling and screaming, above it.
Terror Carson hurried forward. He gave the island one glance and then said: “That’s Skull Island. There used to be good sealing there. But that’s all done away with now. The beasts have gone to other places. There’s water there, though. A perennial spring. I’ve a good mind to land and replenish the kegs.�
“Why is it called Skull Island?� inquired Raynor, feeling, that as Carson appeared in a good mood, he might venture the question.
“On account of a fight that took place there some years ago,� said Carson. “Rival sealers battled on the island and the conquerors stuck up the skulls of their enemies on poles.�
“It is a dismal-looking place,� said Raynor. “Does anybody live there?�