‘Then there must be a pair of ’em!’ roared the other fellow with great excitement. ‘What I heard was like a drunken old man swearing in his sleep.’
‘Captain,’ said I, stepping forward, ‘let me go aloft, will you? I’ve long wanted to believe in ghosts, and here is a chance now for me to embark in that faith.’
‘Ghosts, Mr. Dugdale? Yet it is an extraordinary business too. There has been nothing to hear from the deck, has there?’
‘Nothing, sir,’ answered Mr. Cocker. ‘But, Mr. Dugdale, if you will take the weather rigging, I’ll slip up to leeward; and it’ll be strange if between us we don’t let the life out of the wonder, be it what it will.’
I jumped at once into the weather shrouds, and was promptly travelling aloft with the sight of the figure of the second mate in the rigging abreast clawing the ratlines, and the frog-like spread of his legs showing out against the faintness of the space of the mainsail behind him. We came together in the maintop, and there stood looking up and listening a minute.
‘I see nothing,’ said I.
‘Nor I,’ said the second mate.
We peered carefully round us, then got into the topmast rigging and climbed to the level of the topsail yard, where we waited for the wonderful voice to address us; but nothing spoke, nor was there anything to be seen.
‘Those two sailors must have fallen crazy,’ said I.
‘There’s no need to go any higher,’ said Mr. Cocker; ‘the topgallant and royal yards lie clear as rules against the stars. On deck there!’