p or
catch cold. Did you, Polly?"

Polly laughed and said that she never did, and asked eagerly what the
ghost was like.

"It was wery much like an or'nary man of small size," said the seaman,
"but it were too dark to make out its face. I know the figure of every
soul in the ship by this time, an' I could swear before a maginstrate,
or a bench of bishops, that the ghost is neither one of the crew nor a
passenger."

"Why didn't you speak to it?" asked Polly.

"So I did speak to it, but it wouldn't answer; then I made a grab at it,
but it was as active as a kitten, dodged round the mainmast, flew for'ed
on inwisible wings, and went slap down the fore-scuttle, head first,
with a crash that would have broke the neck of anything but a ghost."

At this interesting point the conversation was interrupted by Edwin
Jack, whose turn it was to relieve the man at the wheel. He nodded to
Polly as he came up, took his post, and received the ship's "course"
from Burr, who thrust his hands into his pockets, and left the
quarter-deck.

Edwin was by this time a considerably changed man, although but a few
days at sea. The rough blue trousers, guernsey, and pea-jacket, took as
naturally to his strong limbs as if he had been born and bred a sailor;
and already some huge blisters, a few scars, and not a little tar, had
rendered his hands creditable.

Steering at the time was a mere matter of form, as a dead calm
prevailed. Our philosopher therefore amused himself and Polly with
commentaries on the ghost-subject which Burr had raised.

Late that night, when the stars were shining in a cloudless sky, and
winking at their reflections in the glassy ocean, the ghost appeared to
Edwin Jack. It was on this wise:

Jack, being one of the watch on deck, went to the port bulwarks near the
foremast shrouds, leant over, and, gazing down into the reflected sky,
thought sadly of past, present, and future. Tiring at last of his
meditations, he went towards a man who appeared to be skulking under the
shadow of the long-boat and remarked that it was a fine night, but the
man made no reply.

"A most enjoyable night, shipmate," he said, going closer.

"I'm glad you think so," said the ghost, "it's anything but enjoyable to
_me_. The state of the weather hasn't much effect, either one way or
another, on a fellow who is half-dead with hunger, half-choked with a
cold caught among the rats and stores, and half-killed by a tumble down
the fore