“You won’t see it again,” said Dick, with the confidence of a man who had taken every possible precaution to render the prophecy a safe one.
He went below, leaving the skipper at the wheel idly watching the cook as he performed marvellous feats of jugglery, between the galley and the fo’c’sle, with the men’s breakfast.
A little while later, leaving the wheel to Sam, he went below himself and had his own, talking freely, to the discomfort of the conscious-stricken cook, about his weird experiences of the night before.
“You won’t see it no more, sir, I don’t expect,” he said faintly; “I b’leeve it come and rubbed itself up agin your leg to show it forgave you.”
“Well, I hope it knows it’s understood,” said the other. “I don’t want it to take any more trouble.”
He finished the breakfast in silence, and then went on deck again. It was still blowing hard, and he went over to superintend the men who were attempting to lash together some empties which were rolling about in all directions amidships. A violent roll set them free again, and at the same time separated two chests in the fo’c’sle, which were standing one on top of the other. This enabled Satan, who was crouching in the lower one, half crazed with terror, to come flying madly up on deck and give his feelings full vent. Three times in full view of the horrified skipper he circled the deck at racing speed, and had just started on the fourth when a heavy packing-case, which had been temporarily set on end and abandoned by the men at his sudden appearance, fell over and caught him by the tail. Sam rushed to the rescue.
“Stop!” yelled the skipper.
“Won’t I put it up, sir?” inquired Sam.
“Do you see what’s beneath it?” said the skipper, in a husky voice.
“Beneath it, sir?” said Sam, whose ideas were in a whirl.