The lights were out, and nothing was visible.  They groped their way to the peak ladder, and were nearly dead with fright when they reached the deck.  When they had sufficiently recovered, they said that there was something in the peak alive, which kept butting up against them.  They were sure it wasn’t a man, and that it must be something evil.  An Irish sailor stood close by laughing and jeering at them, and in genuine brogue he charged them with being haunted by their own “evil deeds.”

“You had no business there,” said he, “and to prove to you that I am right I’ll swear divil a thing is there in the peak but cargo gear and other stores.  I’ll go down myself and face the evil one you talk about.”

And down he went, but the fright of the officers was feeble to the Irishman’s.  He shrieked and flew on deck shouting, “Be God, you’re right, he’s there!”

The chief mate suspected what it was, but was not keen on going down himself or ordering any one else to do so, so the anchor light was lowered down and shone upon the captain’s pet goat.  It had been long aboard for the purpose of supplying milk to the captain and his wife.  The peak hatch had been off, and Nannie, accustomed to go wherever she pleased, strayed into the darkness and tumbled down.  The incident stopped all work for a time, and created a lot of good-humoured chaff.  The Irishman was especially droll, and endeavoured to carry it off by swearing he knew it was the goat, but he wanted some other fellow to have a go at it.  “But no fear,” said he; “every one of them was dying with funk.”

After a time the captain thought it right to disillusion the officer in charge, and going up to him asked the meaning of the raid.

“Well,” replied the officer, “we have information that there is a large quantity of tobacco aboard, and that some of it is in the forepeak, but most of it is about a couple of feet below the iron ore.”

The captain replied, “We had a lot of it a few days since, but there is not a leaf aboard now that I know of.  Every particle has been thrown overboard.  Let me reassure you on this point.”

“But,” said the officer, “what about the packing?  My men have come across a large quantity.”

“That is very true,” said the commander; “the packing is the only thing we saved.  Now get your men ashore, there’s a good fellow.  You are only working them to death for no earthly reason.”

“But the sailors say the tobacco was emptied out of the packing and covered over with ore.”

“Well, if you believe the sailors and you don’t believe me, go on digging.  I can only repeat, the search is futile.”

“Very well,” replied the disconcerted official, “I shall withdraw all my men but two, who must remain to watch and make sure of there being no concealment.  Not that I disbelieve you.  It is merely a formal precaution which I hope you will think nothing of.”

The whole affair had been reported to the Collector of Customs, and the master was informed that all things considered, the best thing had been done in ridding himself of an awkward encumbrance.  In a few days an emissary of the Gibraltar syndicate had an interview with the captain, and then disappeared.  It was said that he was strongly advised to disappear, lest he should be detained by legal authority.