His mates remembered them.  So did the rest of us.  That coat and cap had hung on the wall opposite Nils’ bunk all during his illness.  He was very proud of these colorful garments.  Of course, we told each other, he would appear in them after death.  And, of course, he was bound to come back.  Didn’t murdered men always come back?  So we assured each other; and the older men began spinning yarns about other ghosts in other ships.  Aye, we talked so much we were afraid to turn in.  Captain Swope’s words about the ghost crew in the Golden Bough impressed us mightily.  We told each other that many men must have died cruel deaths in this notorious hooker; very likely Nils’ spirit was but one of many.  Some of the lads recalled mysteries of the night that they had encountered in this ship, shadowy things melting into darkness, strange noises, and the like; and always they had seen or heard these things aft, around the break of the poop or beneath the boat skids—­in just about the spot where Nils had been beaten up, first by the skipper and then by the mate.  Aye, Nils gave us the creeps.  Another herald of storm, I felt.

Next night Nils did not walk, though the lads in both watches insisted they saw and heard things that were not right or natural.  The night following in the midwatch—­our midwatch—­half the watch swore they saw him flit across the main deck and disappear behind the roundhouse.

The next night marked Nils’ last and most startling appearance.  In the heart of the middle watch, while my mates were sound asleep, the ghost walked into the empty port foc’sle.

That is, the port foc’sle should have been empty, since the mate had the watch out.  But it happened that Nigger, coming from the wheel, seized an opportunity to slip into the deserted room for a quiet smoke-O.  It was a liberty he was safe in taking, now that the bucko mate had reformed.

My bunk in the starboard foc’sle was handy to the door connecting the two rooms, and when he burst terror-stricken through that door my unconscious head was right in front of him.  I awakened abruptly to discover Nigger clawing my hair; aye, and when I looked up and saw his convulsed face and gleaming, bulging eyes, I knew at once he had seen Nils.

He was too scared to talk; he could only stutter.  “Gug-gug-gug-God!” But he pointed into the other foc’sle.

Well, my bowels were water, as the saying is, but nevertheless I turned out promptly.  I had to.  Other men were waking up.  Even Newman, in the bunk opposite, had his eyes open; and he was regarding me in a very curious way.  So I couldn’t hold back.  I was bully of the crowd, and I would not let the crowd think I was afraid to face anything, even a ghost.

Out I rolled, and into the doorway I stepped.  There I stopped.  God’s truth, I was frozen to the spot with terror.  For Nils’ shadow lay athwart the floor of the port fo’sle, his moving shadow.  It was this shadow coming in through the deck door that had frightened Nigger.  He recognized the shadow as Nils because a tam-o’-shanter crowned the silhouette, and Nils had owned the only tam on board.