t no guilty man would dare
to pooh-pooh. And perhaps the undiscovered murderers--whether believing
or not--were haunted. They wouldn't be likely to boast about it, would
they?

"For myself," he pursued, in a sort of vindictive, malevolent whine, "if
anybody murdered me I would not let him forget it. I would wither him
up--I would terrify him to death."

The idea of his skipper's ghost terrifying anyone was so ludicrous
that the black mate, little disposed to mirth as he was, could not help
giving vent to a weary laugh.

And this laugh, the only acknowledgment of a long and earnest discourse,
offended Captain Johns.

"What's there to laugh at in this conceited manner, Mr. Bunter?" he
snarled. "Supernatural visitations have terrified better men than you.
Don't you allow me enough soul to make a ghost of?"

I think it was the nasty tone that caused Bunter to stop short and turn
about.

"I shouldn't wonder," went on the angry fanatic of spiritism, "if you
weren't one of them people that take no more account of a man than if
he were a beast. You would be capable, I don't doubt, to deny the
possession of an immortal soul to your own father."

And then Bunter, being bored beyond endurance, and also exasperated by
the private worry, lost his self-possession.

He walked up suddenly to Captain Johns, and, stooping a little to look
close into his face, said, in a low, even tone:

"You don't know what a man like me is capable of."

Captain Johns threw his head back, but was too astonished to budge.
Bunter resumed his walk; and for a long time his measured footsteps and
the low wash of the water alongside were the only sounds which troubled
the silence brooding over the great waters. Then Captain Johns cleared
his throat uneasily, and, after sidling away towards the companion for
greater safety, plucked up enough courage to retreat under an act of
authority:

"Raise the starboard clew of the mainsail, and lay the yards dead
square, Mr. Bunter. Don't you see the wind is nearly right aft?"

Bunter at once answered "Ay, ay, sir," though there was not the
slightest necessity to touch the yards, and the wind was well out on
the quarter. While he was executing the order Captain Johns hung on the
companion-steps, growling to himself: "Walk this poop like an admiral
and don't even notice when the yards want trimming!"--loud enough for
the helmsman to overhear. Then he sank slowly backwards out of the man's
sight; and when he