the captain on the poop, as well
as Mr Saunders and myself up in the mizzen-top, had witnessed the whole
of the strange occurrence the same as Tim Rooney, and all of us were
equally astonished.

As for Captain Gillespie, being a very superstitious man, he seemed
strongly impressed by what had happened. His voice quite trembled as he
called out to Tim Rooney after a moment's pause, during which he was too
much startled to speak:

"Wha--what's the matter with them, bosun?"

"Sorry o' me knows," replied Tim in an equally awestruck voice, either
full of real or very well assumed terror, "barrin' that the divil's got
howld av 'em; an' it's raal vexed I am, sorr, av spakin' so moighty
disrespectful av his honour jist now. Aye, take me worrud for it,
cap'en, they're possiss'd, as sure as eggs is mate!"

"I think the same, and that the deil's got into 'em," said Captain
Gillespie gravely, wrinkling up his nose so much and nodding his head,
and looking so like an old owl in the bright light of the moon which had
rapidly risen, and was already shining with all the fulness and
brilliancy it has in these southern latitudes, that it was as much as I
could do to keep from bursting out laughing and so betraying my presence
in the top above his head. I was all the more amused, too, when "Old
Jock" turned to the second mate and added: "I look upon this as a
visitation, and am glad I never killed the animals; for I would not
touch one now for anything! Have the remaining brute chucked overboard,
Saunders; it would be unlucky to keep it after what has happened. I'm
sure I could not bear the sight of it or to hear it grant again!"

So saying, Captain Gillespie went below and took a stiff glass of grog
to recover his nerves. He must then have got into his cot for he did
not appear on deck again until the middle watch--a most unusual thing
for him to do.

"It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good," however, and the aptness
of the adage was well illustrated in the present instance, the men
feasting on roast pork, besides putting by some tit-bits salted down for
a rainy day, at the expense of "Old Jock's" superstitious fears.

It was wonderful, though, how many legs were owned by that one "last
pig" which the captain had ordered to be chucked overboard, and which
Mr Saunders had, instead, given over to Ching Wang's tender mercies for
the benefit of himself and the crew, stipulating, however, that he was
to have one of the best