“Sakes alive, no!” cried burly Jake.  “I run and search de ship plenty quick.”  And away he went.

Webb was dressed and leaving his cabin when Jake returned.  But neither high nor low, fore nor aft, could Tom be found, nor had he been seen since the main-topsail had carried away just before midnight.

The captain was now roused and the terrible news reported.

“Poor Tom! poor Tom!  Washed overboard without a doubt!” he said.

Tom had been a great favourite on board, and the news caused a general gloom all over the ship.

But Broomberg and his mates received the news in another way.

“It is von unlucky ship,” cried the former, “and did not those below hear the shrieking of the ghosts when the waves and wind were highest?  Come we to the captain at once, men.  I will not sail in a haunted ship.  No, no.”

Some minutes before eight bells rang out in the morning air, the captain on the quarter-deck, with Mr. Webb and the professor, were engaged in angry talk with Broomberg and his fellows.

“Return to your duty, men,” the captain said.  “I will make enquiries into the matter.  As for you, Broomberg, hand over that knife you are fingering, and consider yourself under arrest.”

“I will not,” shouted the fellow.  “See!”

He made a wild rush aft, holding the glittering blade high in air, and seized the professor by the neck.

But help from an unexpected quarter was at hand, and next moment Broomberg was sprawling on his back with Briton’s great paws on his chest.

Mutiny and ghosts and storm were at once forgotten.  The men cheered wildly, Broomberg’s knife was snatched from his hand, and he himself bound hand and foot, while everybody crowded round to shake hands with the little professor, or to pat the noble dog who had saved his life.

But suddenly joy was changed to terror, for shriek after shriek could be heard forward, and in a few seconds’ time the cook rushed helter-skelter up on deck, almost pale with fright, followed by the men of the watch below.

“The ghosts!” somebody shouted.

The captain stood as if stupefied, the little professor’s eyes were as big as watch-glasses, and the mate had to catch hold of a back-stay to prevent himself from falling.

The whole crew now took to the rigging, and the only marvel is that some of them did not slip overboard and make food for the sharks.

“Look, look!—­oh, look, sir!” shouted the mate with a cry like one in a nightmare; and the next moment he fainted and fell on the top of Broomberg the mutineer.

CHAPTER III

Two little girls, one little boy, and one little dog, all as black as chimney-sweeps, the girls with their arms in the air, now came wildly racing aft.

Tom himself, come back to life, was standing on the capstan waving his cap in the air, and cheering and laughing like a mad thing.