“Well, I think that’s all.”

But the mate didn’t move.

“Anything else, Mr. Webb?”

“There is something else, sir,” said the mate rather sheepishly.

“Well, out with it.  Why, you look as if you’d seen a ghost!”

“Well, sir, there is a ghost, or demon, or something aboard of this very ship, and some of the crew are in a state next door to mutiny about it.”

“What on earth do you mean, Mr. Webb?”

The tall, handsome, fair-haired Webb leaned over the table and spoke to Staysail almost in a whisper.

“It’s the little professor they all blame, sir; and there are four of them who swear the ship is haunted—­that he keeps evil spirits under lock and key for’ard—­”

“But—­but—­Mr. Webb—­Evil spirits under lock and key!  Do you mean bad rum?  And who is he?”

“Hush, sir! don’t talk so loud.  He’s walking the deck now.  It’s the professor I mean, sir.  As to the evil spirits, I’ve heard them myself—­mutter, mutter, squeak, squeak, squeak!  Ugh! it is awful, sir—­awful!”

And the mate shuddered as he spoke.

Now, Staysail was always a good laugher, but at this tale he fairly yelled with laughter until everything jingled in the cabin, and the tears ran down his cheeks.

The mate never moved a muscle.

“That awful fore-cabin, sir!” he said.  “It’s in there, and Broomberg, the Finlander, declares that if you don’t land him and his mates at Bergen they’ll seize the ship and sail for Aberdeen.”

“But why on earth don’t you open the fore-cabin?”

“Oh, that’s where it is, sir!  The key is lost, or else the professor has it.”

“Hark!”

A squall at that moment struck the ship and heeled her over.  It blew with tremendous force for a time, and at last settled down to a steady gale.  But in less than an hour the captain’s orders were carried out, and the good ship Valhalla was speeding before the wind at a good rate with very little sail on her.

The storm increased towards midnight, and at that dark hour the Valhalla had to lie to under almost bare poles.  So busy had all hands been kept that there was very little time to think of ghosts or evil spirits, and now that the crew had a chance of turning in, it is needless to say that sleep was the first thing to be considered.

But fresh trouble came with the new day.  The wind had gone down, and the sea as well, and the Valhalla was now bowling along on a pretty even keel, for the breeze was well astern.

Webb, the mate, and Tom both slept in bunks in the same cabin.  Just as the steward was laying breakfast, Webb popped his head out from his cabin curtains.

“Hillo, steward!”

“Good-morning, sah!” said Jake Brown, who, strange as it may seem, was a tall and important-looking black man, with hair as white as snow.

“Have you seen Master Tom?  He hasn’t been here all night.  I slept too sound to take much notice.”