“I thought, perhaps, that if I told you I hadn’t seen it, you would think you’d been mistaken,” I said.  “I wanted you to think it was imagination, or a dream, or something of that sort.”

“And all the time, you knew about that other thing you’d seen?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“It was thundering decent of you,” he said.  “But it wasn’t any good.”

He paused a moment.  Then he went on: 

“It’s terrible about Williams.  Do you think he saw something, up aloft?”

“I don’t know, Tammy,” I said.  “It’s impossible to say.  It may have been only an accident.”  I hesitated to tell him what I really thought.

“What was he saying about his pay-day?  Who was he saying it to?”

“I don’t know,” I said, again.  “He was always cracked about taking a pay-day out of her.  You know, he stayed in her, on purpose, when all the others left.  He told me that he wasn’t going to be done out of it, for anyone.”

“What did the other lot leave for?” he asked.  Then, as the idea seemed to strike him—­“Jove! do you think they saw something, and got scared?  It’s quite possible.  You know, we only joined her in ’Frisco.  She had no ’prentices on the passage out.  Our ship was sold; so they sent us aboard here to come home.”

“They may have,” I said.  “Indeed, from things I’ve heard Williams say, I’m pretty certain, he for one, guessed or knew a jolly sight more than we’ve any idea of.”

“And now he’s dead!” said Tammy, solemnly.  “We’ll never be able to find out from him now.”

For a few moments, he was silent.  Then he went off on another track.

“Doesn’t anything ever happen in the Mate’s watch?”

“Yes,” I answered.  “There’s several things happened lately, that seem pretty queer.  Some of his side have been talking about them.  But he’s too jolly pig-headed to see anything.  He just curses his chaps, and puts it all down to them.”

“Still,” he persisted, “things seem to happen more in our watch than in his—­I mean, bigger things.  Look at tonight.”

“We’ve no proof, you know,” I said.

He shook his head, doubtfully.

“I shall always funk going aloft, now.”

“Nonsense!” I told him.  “It may only have been an accident.”

“Don’t!” he said.  “You know you don’t think so, really.”

I answered nothing, just then; for I knew very well that he was right.  We were silent for a couple of moments.

Then he spoke again: 

“Is the ship haunted?”

For an instant I hesitated.

“No,” I said, at length.  “I don’t think she is.  I mean, not in that way.”

“What way, then?”

“Well, I’ve formed a bit of a theory, that seems wise one minute, and cracked the next.  Of course, it’s as likely to be all wrong; but it’s the only thing that seems to me to fit in with all the beastly things we’ve had lately.”