"Yes, devil's fire; and devils, too, for all I know; and certainly
vampires. Did you ever hear of vampires, Doctor?"

"No," growled the Nigger.

"Well, they are women, wonderful, beautiful women. A man on a long
voyage would just smack his lips to see them. They have shiny grey
eyes, and lips red as raspberries. When you meet them they will talk
with you and go home with you. And then when you're asleep they tear
a little hole in your neck with their sharp claws, and they suck the
blood with their red lips. When they aren't women, they take the shape
of big bats like birds." He turned to me with so beautifully casual
an air that I wanted to clap him on the back with the joy of it.

"By the way, Eagen, have you noticed those big bats the last few
evenings, over by the cliff? _I_ can't make out in the dusk
whether they are vampires or just plain bats." He directed his remarks
again to the Nigger. "Next time you see any of those big bats, Doctor,
just you notice close. If they have just plain, black eyes, they're
all right; but if they have grey eyes, with red rims around 'em,
they're vampires. I wish you'd let me know, if you do find out. It's
interesting."

"Don' get me near no bats," growled the Nigger.

"Where's Selover?" inquired Darrow.

"He stays aboard," I hastened to say. "Wants to keep an eye on the
ship."

"That's laudable. What have you been doing?"

"We've been cleaning ship. Just finished yesterday evening."

"What next?"

"We were thinking of wrecking the _Golden Horn_."

"Quite right. Well, if you want any help with your engines or anything
of the sort, call on me."

He arose and began to light his lantern. "I hope as how you're getting
on well there above, sir?" ventured Handy Solomon insinuatingly.

"Very well, I thank you, my man," replied Percy Darrow drily.
"Remember those vampires, Doctor."

He swung the lantern and departed without further speech. We followed
the spark of it until it disappeared in the arroyo.

Behind us bellowed the sea; over against us in the sky was the dull
threatening glow of the volcano; about us were mysterious noises of
crying birds, barking seals, rustling or rushing winds. I felt the
thronging ghosts of all the old world's superstition swirling madly
behind us in the eddies that twisted the smoke of our fire.

We wrecked the _Golden Horn_. Forward was a rusted-out donkey
engine, which we took to pieces and put together again. It was no mean
job, for