"You know I didn't.
You know _you_ saw it yourself. You pointed it out to the Second Mate. I
saw you."
The little beggar was nearly crying between fear, and vexation at my
assumed unbelief.
"Rot!" I replied. "You know jolly well you were sleeping in your
time-keeping. You dreamed something and woke up suddenly. You were off
your chump."
I was determined to reassure him, if possible; though, goodness! I
wanted assurance myself. If he had known of that other thing, I had seen
down on the maindeck, what then?
"I wasn't asleep, any more than you were," he said, bitterly. "And you
know it. You're just fooling me. The ship's haunted."
"What!" I said, sharply.
"She's haunted," he said, again. "She's haunted."
"Who says so?" I inquired, in a tone of unbelief.
"I do! And you _know_ it. Everybody knows it; but they don't more than
half believe it ... I didn't, until tonight."
"Damned rot!" I answered. "That's all a blooming old shellback's yarn.
She's no more haunted than I am."
"It's not damned rot," he replied, totally unconvinced.
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