, of course, I
could no longer see him.

"Save me! save me!" he called out, in almost as despairing and
terror-stricken a tone as that of poor Sam, when he was shot and fell
into the sea; and then I heard a heavy splash, as if the captain had
tumbled down on his face in the pool slushing about the deck. "Save me!
Take him away! The darned nigger hez got me at last!"

CHAPTER FIVE.

ON FIRE IN THE HOLD.

I think I must have swooned away with fright, for the next thing I
recollect on coming to myself was the steward, Morris Jones, shaking me.

"Rouse up, you lazy lubber!" he roared in my ears. "Rouse up and help
me with the cap'en; he's fell down in a fit, or something!"

Then, I noticed that Jones had a ship's lantern in his hand, by the dim
light of which the cabin was only faintly illuminated; but I could see
the water washing about the floor, with a lot of things floating about
that had been carried away by the big wave coming in through the broken
port in the stern sheets, that was also plainly discernible from the
phosphorescent glow of the sea without, which every moment welled up
almost on a level with the deck above, as if it were going to fetch
inboard again and vamp us altogether.

"Wha--what's the matter?" I stammered out, half confused at the way in
which the steward shook me; and then, recollecting all that had
happened, as the fearful sight both the captain and I had seen flashed
all at once on my mind, I put my hands before my face shudderingly,
exclaiming, "Oh, the ghost! the ghost!"

"The ghost your grandmother!" ejaculated Jones, giving me another rough
hustle. "Why, boy, you ain't awake yet. I'll douse you in the water,
and give you a taste of `cold pig,' if you don't get up and help me in a
minute!"

"But I saw it," I cried, starting to my feet and looking wildly around
to see if the apparition were still there. "I saw it with my own eyes;
and so did Captain Snaggs, too!"

"Saw what?"

"The ghost of poor Sam Jedfoot."

Morris Jones laughed scornfully.

"You confounded fool, you're dreaming still!" he said, shaking me again,
to give emphasis to his words. "I should like to know what the nigger
cook's ghost were doin' in here. Where did you see his ugly phiz agen,
do you say?"

"There!" I answered boldly, pointing to the corner by the cabin door,
where, as the steward flashed his lantern in the direction, I could
still see something black and hazy waving to and fro. "Wh