‘Here’s a nice pickle we’re in, Charles,’ cried Wilfrid. ‘What think you? Crimp swears the yacht’s haunted.’
‘So she be,’ said Crimp.
‘Pity your mother didn’t sell vinegar, Jacob, that you might have stayed at home to bottle it off,’ exclaimed Finn. ‘Haunted! That may do for the marines, but you won’t get the sailors to believe it.’
‘That’s jist what they do then,’ remarked Crimp. ‘All the watch below have heard it, and can’t sleep in consequence.’
‘Heard what?’ I asked.
‘The woice,’ answered Jacob, ‘the same as you and me heard t’other night.’
‘Have you heard a voice, Charles?’ exclaimed Wilfrid, suddenly fetching a deep breath.
‘A mere fancy,’ said I.
‘Ye didn’t like it anyhow,’ said Crimp gruffly, as though speaking aside.