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?”
“Oh, yes, you did,” said the other. “I’ve got your letters in my pocket to prove it; besides, if you didn’t I should give you in charge for desertion directly we get to port.”
He exchanged glances with the mate, and Bill, after standing first on one leg and then on the other, walked slowly away. For the rest of the morning he stayed below setting the smaller ghost a bad example in the way of language, and threatening his fellows with all sorts of fearful punishments.
Until dinner-time the skipper heard no more of them, but he had just finished that meal and lit his pipe when he heard footsteps on the deck, and the next moment old Ned, hot and angry, burst into the cabin.