"There's something wrong, I take it, in your upper story,
Jack Fuller," coolly observed his companion; "that 'ere
ghost has quite capsized you."

"Hark, again!" repeated the sailor. "Didn't you hear it
then? A sort of a groan like."

"Where, in what part?" calmly demanded the boatswain,
though in the same suppressed tone in which the dialogue
had been, carried on.

"Why, from the canoe that lies alongside there. I heard
it several times afore."

"Well, damn my eyes, if you a'rn't turned a real coward
at last," politely remarked Mr. Mullins. "Can't the poor
fat devil of a Canadian snooze a bit in his hammock,
without putting you so completely out of your reckoning?"

"The Canadian--the Canadian!" hurriedly returned Fuller:
"why, don't you see him there, leaning with his back to
the main-mast, and as fast asleep as if the devil himself
couldn't wake him?"

"Then it was the devil, you heard, if you like," quaintly
retorted Mullins: "but bear a hand, and tell us all about
this here ghost."

"Hark, again! what was that?" once more enquired the
excited sailor.