The company on the raft waited anxiously. In a very few moments, which seemed like a great many, a hail came from the side of the ship, and they could see the Cabin-boy standing at a point of the deck where it was now sloped high out of the water, and he was holding the Chinaman's head aloft in both hands, as if about to throw it towards the raft.
"Don't throw it!" shouted Toby. "Tie a rope to it first!"
But he was too late. The Cabin-boy raised the Chinaman's head higher, swinging his body sideways, and as a dark figure came up behind him and tried to seize his arm, he gave a mighty heave and toss, and sent the Chinaman's head flying through the air in the direction of the raft.
For a second it glistened in the moonlight. In another second it descended towards the raft, and almost reached it; but not quite; it came down within five feet of it, and fell like a shot plump into the ocean. It splashed, and that was all. The Chinaman's head was gone.
A wail went up from the company on the raft at this terrible disaster. How terrible it really was they did not even yet understand, but they were soon to learn. Freddie was almost ready to burst into tears. Aunt Amanda was so exasperated that she could scarcely speak. The others seemed to be stupefied.
"Oh! oh! oh!" cried Aunt Amanda. "You Toby, you! Now you've done it for good. Why, why, why can't you never remember anything? It's your fault, and don't you never try to lay it to that Cabin-boy! And now what'll we do if we ever get separated from Mr. Mizzen? How'll we ever call him up to help
us out of trouble if we get into it? Here's a pretty kettle of fish, now ain't it? I hope and pray we can stick close to Mr. Mizzen until we're all safe and—"
"Look there!" cried Mr. Punch. "Bless me heyes, what do I see? Look at the ship!"
It was high time to look at the ship. No sooner had the Chinaman's head disappeared into the depths of the ocean, than a change began to come over the ship. It grew paler and thinner in the moonlight. The green shutters along the side faded away one by one. The dark hull became lighter; the sails grew so thin that at last the watchers could see the stars shining through them. The whole ship seemed to waver and dissolve into a pale mist. It did not sink; no, the bow was still high out of the water, and all the masts and sails were visible. It simply faded away where it stood.
As it was becoming more and more vague, the voice of Marmaduke the parrot came across the water out of the rigging; a far-away voice, which grew fainter and fainter as the ship grew dimmer, until it died away as if in the distance.