“Dinner?” said the skipper in surprise. “What do you want dinner for?”
“Eat,” said Bill, eyeing him reproachfully.
“Eat?” said the skipper. “What’s the good o’ giving dinner to a ghost? Why you’ve got nowhere to put it.”
By dint of great self-control Bill smiled in a ghastly fashion, and patted his stomach.
“All air,” said the skipper turning away.
“Can we have our clothes and things then?” said Bill grinding his teeth. “Ned says as how you’ve got ’em.”
“Certainly not,” said the skipper. “I take ’em home and give ’em to your next o’ kin. That’s the law, ain’t it, Bob?”
“It is,” said the mate.
“They’ll ’ave your effects and your pay up to the night you committed suicide,” said the skipper.
“We didn’t commit sooicide,” said Bill; “how could we when we’re standing here?”