Pomp was aft, engaged in polishing some brass-work on the binnacle lamp.
The light from the electric globe shone full upon his black visage as he worked away industriously and hummed a song at the same time.
Barney crept along in the gloom, and truly he was a sight well calculated to inspire terror.
The phosphoric gleam from his white garments was almost ghostly, and savoring of graveyards and ghouls.
Nearer he crept to the unsuspecting darky.
He was now directly behind him.
Pomp never dreamed of the ghostly visitor so near him.
Barney drew himself up and uttered a deep and dismal groan.
In a moment Pomp turned.
The effect was comical beyond all powers of description.