“Rubbish!” said the skipper jocularly. “Don’t tell me, three men all afraid o’ one ghost. I sha’n’t interfere. Don’t you know what to do?”
“No, sir,” said Ned eagerly.
“Go up and read the prayer-book to him, and he’ll vanish in a cloud of smoke,” said the skipper.
Ned gazed at him for a moment speechlessly, and then going up on deck leaned over the side and swore himself faint. The cook and Simpson came up and listened respectfully, contenting themselves with an occasional suggestion when the old man’s memory momentarily failed him.
For the rest of the voyage the two culprits suffered all the inconvenience peculiar to a loss of citizenship. The skipper blandly ignored them, and on two or three occasions gave great offence by attempting to walk through Bill as he stood on the deck. Speculation was rife in the fo’c’sle as to what would happen when they got ashore, and it was not until Northsea was sighted that the skipper showed his hand. Then he appeared on deck with their effects done up neatly in two bundles, and pitched them on the hatches. The crew stood and eyed him expectantly.
“Ned,” said the skipper sharply.
“Sir,” said the old man.
“As soon as we’re made fast,” said the other, “I want you to go ashore for me and fetch an undertaker and a policeman. I can’t quite make up my mind which I want.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” murmured the old man.
The skipper turned away, and seizing the helm from the mate, took the ship in. He was so intent upon his business that he appeared not to notice the movements of Bill and Tommy as they edged nervously towards their bundles, and waited impatiently for the schooner to get alongside the quay. Then he turned to the mate and burst into a loud laugh as the couple, bending suddenly, snatched up their bundles, and, clambering up the side, sprang ashore and took to their heels. The mate laughed, too, and a faint but mirthless echo came from the other end of the schooner.