She laughed the thought down, but it bobbed up like a cork in water, more buoyant than ever.
“The ship’s ghost is gone!” she exclaimed, springing up. “I wonder if those men will come back. I’m going to see.”
“And leave us here?” Greta, too, was on her feet. Youngest of the trio, she was unaccustomed to wild, out-of-the-way places.
“Come along,” Florence invited. “No ghost costumes though! Get into your long coats.”
A moment later three dark shadows stole out upon the slanting deck of the wrecked ship.
“Boo!” Greta gripped Florence’s stout arm. “How spooky it all is in the moonlight!”
“And just think!” Jeanne whispered. “Thousands of people have walked this deck, thousands upon thousands! The ship’s more than forty years old. Thousands of those passengers will never walk any deck again. They are gone from this world forever.”
“Oh—oh! Jeanne, don’t talk like that!” dark-eyed Greta implored.
“But where’s your black schooner?” Florence demanded.
“Gone for good, I guess,” Jeanne said after scanning the dark waters.