umstance, as the fire in the
galley under Hiram's expert manipulation was only now at last beginning
to burn up.

"There's summut wrong 'bout this barquey," observed the Welshman,
opening the conversation in a wonderfully civil way for him, and
addressing Hiram, who did not like the man, hardly ever exchanging a
word with him if he could help it. "I larfed at that b'y Cholly for
saying he seed that nigger cook agen in the cabin arter he went
overboard, time the skipper had that row with the fool and shot him; but
sperrit or wot it was, I believe the b'y's right, for I've seed it,
too!"

"Jehosophat!" exclaimed Hiram; "this air gettin' darned streenge an'
cur'ous. Whar did ye see the sperrit, mister?"

"Not a minute or so agone," replied the steward, whose face I could see,
by the light of the ship's lantern in the galley, as well as from the
gleams of the now brightly burning fire, looked awe-stricken, as if he
had actually seen what he attested. "It was a'most dark, and I was
coming out of my pantry when I seed it. Aye, I did, all black, and
shiny, and wet, as if he were jist come out o' the water. I swear it
were the nigger cook, or I'm a Dutchman!"

The two men looked fixedly at each other, without uttering another word
for a minute or more, I staring at them both in dread expectancy of what
they would next say, fancying each instant something more wonderful
still would happen. At last, Hiram broke the silence, which had become
well-nigh unbearable from a sort of nervous tension, that made me feel
creepy and shivery all over.

"I tolled yer jest now, Cholly," said the Yankee sailor in his
`Down-East' drawl, which became all the more emphasised from his slow
and solemn mode o' speaking below his breath--"thet this air shep wer
doomed, an' I sez it now agen, since the stooard hyar hez seed the same
ez we all hev seed afore. Thaar's no denying b'ys, ez how poor Sam's
ghostess walks abroad this hyar ship, an' thet means sunthin', or it
don't! I specs thet air darkey's sperrit ain't comf'able like, an' ye
ken bet y'r bottom dollar he won't rest quiet till he feels slick; fur
ye sees ez how the poor cuss didn't come by his death rightful like, in
lawful fashion."

"Aye, and I've heard tell that folks as been murdered 'll haunt the
place where they've been put away onlawfully," chimed in Morris Jones.
"Not as I've ever believed in sperrits and ghostesses till now; but,
seein' is believin', an' I can't go age