“We have got to hide,” cried Jo, “those idiots have roused the whole ship. I didn’t think they would act like that.”
“We will probably be keel-hauled for this,” said Tom. “Where are you going to hide, Jo?”
“Don’t know, but we have got to hide somewhere, and soon, too.”
Jo was more daring than Tom, and he made a dash for the deck with the hope that he would be able to get back to his cabin and be innocently asleep when an investigation should be made, but no sooner did he get out than he saw that all retreat was cut off, for he could dimly see Jim’s form coming along the passageway. He hesitated for a second undecided which way to turn, then he crouched quickly in the direction of the bow. It had come to him like an inspiration. There was a covered cubby hole roofed over, where old chains and such things were kept, in the bow.
CHAPTER XIII
TOM’S BAD LUCK
Jo crawled as far back as he could into his hiding place, bumping his head and bruising his knees on the rusty chains, and in the remotest corner he crouched much like a scared kitten. He had just got safely hidden when Jim reached the hood of the forecastle.
Then Jim descended in search of the ghosts. No sooner had he lighted a lantern than Pete appeared hobbling down the steps into the dim interior with the bell, that Jo had tied to the ladder, in his hand. This the old sailor felt would give the clue to the mystery, and it did.