"Why, then, sir," replied the captain of the forecastle, "we've never had no luck since you took that 'ere black cat on board."
The captain could not help laughing. "Well," said he, "that evil can soon be remedied. Midshipman, tell my steward to throw the cat overboard."
"O sir!" said the man, in great alarm, "do not throw him overboard—that would be worser still."
"Then, what the deuce do you want me to do with him?"
"Why, if your honour would send him ashore as he came aboard, in a boat."
"What a set of cursed ninnies!" muttered the captain. "Well," said he, "you have often exerted yourselves to please me, and it is but fair that I should do something to please you for once in a way."
The frigate stood in shore, and hove to, a boat was lowered, and the unlucky cat, safely deposited in a bread-bag, was sent under charge of a midshipman to be landed at the nearest point. The boat returned in due time, and was hoisted up, the sails were filled and trimmed, when the man at the mast-head hailed the deck—
"A strange sail in sight ahead, sir!"
"All hands make sail in chase!" was the cry; and, before night, the cat-haters had taken a valuable prize.
"A strange coincidence, certainly," said Tom, "and most unfortunately calculated to strengthen the men in their superstition. I hope we shall have no such confirmation of Ben's panic about the cow."