“Why,’ said Charley again, ‘may be I have, and may be I haven’t—I’m not goin’ for to say now. Only so much, d’ ye see—he’s the very man to take the old craft home, in case of any thing had happenin’ to the skipper. If we do go to sea on Sunday, as is give out in the ship—what I want you lads of the larboard watch to do, is to keep a small helm till we once gits in the Cape latitudes. If the skipper lays her course for the Brazil coast, then—leave the rest to Charley Toppin.’
“ ‘Well,’ answered Frank, ‘we’re all of one mind, Chips; and if the soft-sawderin’, murderin’, buccaneerin’ thief tries his hand at that game, more than half t’other watch’ll jine with us. You see, lads, fair play’s a jewel, and I did promise the steward to say nothin’ about what I seed in the after-cabin to-day—hows’iver, as all hands is concarned—and you all heerd the screach—why, sink me, if it’s a man’s part to keep back the truth:—Either the ship’s haunted by the captain’s wife’s ghost—or else he’s got a live missus stowed away in the cabins.’
“There was a regular burst of top-gallant oaths and exclamations at this, until the carpenter took the word in a sort of triumph.
“ ‘I knowed it—I knowed it—I told you all the same thing—and who was most ready to laugh at the spurrit but Frank—and now you hear him.’
“ ‘I only tell what I saw, shipmates,’ rejoined the man-of-war’s man; you may believe what you like.’
“ ‘But let’s hear the rights of it, Frank,’ said the cooper.
“ ‘Well, then, you see,’ said Frank, after a pause, ‘when I slipped off my irons and got into the pantry, looking for something to eat—for the rum dying in me made me as ravenous as a wolf—the thought comed into my head, somehow, to have a look at the Bluebeard-chamber, as we calls the after-cabin all along. I knowed the mates were busy on deck, and the skipper ashore—and I heers the steward go up with his dishes, afore I slipped back the slide—so, mates, I walks like a cat in a game-preserve, past the skipper’s berth, through the for’ard cabin—and lays my hand on the nob of the door between. Sure enough it were locked fast, and I outs sheath-knife to pry back the bolt—and blessed if that very minute the lock doesn’t turn from the inside. This here you see, sets me all in a tremble, and I stands still for a second, doubtin’ what to do, and more nor half a mind to go back, as the thought of this here ghost of the carpenter’s comes over me strong. Hows’iver, ‘here’s venture,’ thinks I—and in I bolts. What with the deadlights down, and something over the bulls-eyes, it were as dark as a dungeon at fust; but, as I feels my way in, somebody moves on the poop—the light shoots down in a stream—and I sees the wheel cabin pretty well, with a rack full bottles and glasses between the doors, and the two ship models we made on the fust cruise, standing on their ways, safe enough on the transom. I steps up to see what sort o’ stuff might be inside the bottles, and never sees sign of monkey, nor nothing else, ’till I give a look in a big looking-glass, when blessed if I doesn’t see the door of the starboard aftermost state-room open, and a woman in white standin’ inside, lookin’ straight at me. I slues round at this, and she gives the scream as some on you heerd—and vanishes in a jiffy. Well, mates, while I stands dumbfoundered at this, shakin’ worse nor afore, the steward comes down the companion-way like a hot shot, and shoves me back into the pantry—and away he drives agin like mad. In less than a minute he comes back, quiet enough, with a tumbler of grog in his fist—and ‘Here,’ says he, ‘take this down, and say nothin’ to nobody about a ghost at all—and I’ll lay it on the monkey.’ I nods and swallows the stuff, and makes sail back to the steerage, where the third mate comes down a minute arter, and takes off the other chap’s bracelets, and tells us all to turn to.’
“ ‘And now, mates,’ said he, ‘it’s all Bible truth, jist as it took place; and whether it be a ghost or no, it looked wonderful white and thin—and as much like the poor lady, as if it were her picter, full size, and done by some great painter—you know.’
“ ‘The Lord have mercy on us!’ exclaimed the cooper; ‘the likes of that I niver ’spected to hear in this ship. But murder will out—and haunt the cabins and the poop it’s sartain to do, as long as there’s a Jonas left aboard.’
“ ‘Why,’ said another, ‘I’ve a notion to cut and run from this here cussed craft to-morrow.’