lover,
thet is, too."

"Hullo!" exclaimed the carpenter at that moment, poking his head within
the galley door, and making me and the Welshman jump with fright,
thinking he was Sam's ghost again. "Who's hailing me? What's the
row?--anything up?"

"No, bo," said Hiram. "I wer only tellin' the stooard hyar an' Cholly
ez how yo agreed with me ez this wer a durned onlocky craft, an' bound
to meet with misfortun' arter all thet's come an' gone aboord."

"That's so," acquiesced Tom; though he did not look much alarmed at the
prospect. "The `old man,' though, seems turnin' round into a better
sort--treating us all to grog and sich like."

"He'd kinder ought to," growled the other, as he stirred the tea in the
coppers, which were just boiling by now; and he then proceeded to tell
Tom about the mysterious disappearance of the banjo, and the fact of
Morris Jones having seen the apparition again in the cabin aft, winding
up with the query--"An' what d'ye think o' thet now, Chips?"

"Think?" echoed Tom Bullover, laughing; "why, that you're kicking up a
dust about nothing, my hearty! Missed the banjo out of y'r chest, eh--
where are y'r eyes, bo? There it are, hanging right over y'r heads in
the galley, on the same cleat where poor Sam Jedfoot left it afore he
met his fate! Why, where are y'r peepers--old stick in the mud, hey?"

As he said this, Tom Bullover reached up his hand overhead by the door
of the galley, above the spot where he was standing, and as our eyes
followed his motions we all could see now Sam's banjo hanging on the
cleat where it always used to be when the negro cook occupied the
caboose, the instrument swinging to and fro as Tom touched it.

"Wa-all, I'm jiggered!" cried Hiram, taking up the lantern that he had
placed on the deck when he returned from the fo'c's'le and flashing it
on the suspended object, to make assurance doubly sure. "Thaar it air,
sure enuff; an' all I ken say is, I'm jiggered! It jest licks creation,
thet it dew!"

"Lor' bless you, mate! you could ha' seed it afore if you'd only used
your eyes," replied Tom to this exordium, laughing again; "but, let's
stow all such flummery now about ghostesses an' sich like, for it's all
moonshine when you looks into the matter; an' you, an' Charley, an' the
stooard here, have been all busy rigging up `duppies,' as poor Sam used
to call 'em, out o' your heads, when we poor beggars forrud are dyin'
for our tea. Ain't it ready yet?"

"Ay