“It’s odd about them,” remarked Jim, coming to a halt in the middle of the floor. “They seem to have vanished.”
“I reckon it was ghosts, after all,” said old Pete.
The only pieces of furniture in the place were a small trunk belonging to the boy, an impossible hiding place for lads the size of Jo or Tom—and Pete’s battered old sea-chest. This latter Pete opened, it was not locked, and saw only a heap of old clothes.
“Not here, Skipper,” he said, shutting down the lid with a snap.
“They must have got up on deck then,” said Jim, puzzled.
So the party adjourned to the deck, Jim carrying the lantern to aid him in the search.
“What did you find?” roared the captain.
“It was Tom and Jo, sir,” yelled Jim, “but we can’t locate them. Have you seen them skulking aft, Captain?”
“Nobody has gone by me,” cried the captain. “They must be for’ard.”