“Nobody saw the cat do it,” urged the mate.

The skipper said nothing, but, stooping down, picked up a tail feather from the floor, and laid it on the table.  He then went on deck, followed by the others, and began calling, in seductive tones, for the cat.  No reply forth coming from the sagacious animal, which had gone into hiding, he turned to Sam, and bade him call it.

“No, sir, I won’t ’ave no ’and in it,” said the old man.  “Putting aside my liking for the animal, I’M not going to ’ave anything to do with the killing of a black cat.”

“Rubbish!” said the skipper.

“Very good, sir,” said Sam, shrugging his shoulders, “you know best, o’ course.  You’re eddicated and I’m not, an’ p’raps you can afford to make a laugh o’ such things.  I knew one man who killed a black cat an’ he went mad.  There’s something very pecooliar about that cat o’ ours.”

“It knows more than we do,” said one of the crew, shaking his head.  “That time you—­I mean we—­ran the smack down, that cat was expecting of it ’ours before.  It was like a wild thing.”

“Look at the weather we’ve ’ad—­look at the trips we’ve made since he’s been aboard,” said the old man.  “Tell me it’s chance if you like, but I know better.”

The skipper hesitated.  He was a superstitious man even for a sailor, and his weakness was so well known that he had become a sympathetic receptacle for every ghost story which, by reason of its crudeness or lack of corroboration, had been rejected by other experts.  He was a perfect reference library for omens, and his interpretations of dreams had gained for him a widespread reputation.

“That’s all nonsense,” he said, pausing uneasily; “still, I only want to be just.  There’s nothing vindictive about me, and I’ll have no hand in it myself.  Joe, just tie a lump of coal to that cat and heave it overboard.”

“Not me,” said the cook, following Sam’s lead, and working up a shudder.  “Not for fifty pun in gold.  I don’t want to be haunted.”

“The parrot’s a little better now, sir,” said one of the men, taking advantage of his hesitation, “he’s opened one eye.”

“Well, I only want to be just,” repeated the skipper.  “I won’t do anything in a hurry, but, mark my words, if the parrot dies that cat goes overboard.”

Contrary to expectations, the bird was still alive when London was reached, though the cook, who from his connection with the cabin had suddenly reached a position of unusual importance, reported great loss of strength and irritability of temper.  It was still alive, but failing fast on the day they were to put to sea again; and the fo’c’sle, in preparation for the worst, stowed their pet away in the paint-locker, and discussed the situation.

Their council was interrupted by the mysterious behaviour of the cook, who, having gone out to lay in a stock of bread, suddenly broke in upon them more in the manner of a member of a secret society than a humble but useful unit of a ship’s company.