"Fancy you heard a cat just now?" inquired the mate casually.
"Well, between you an' me, Dick," said the skipper, in a mysterious
voice, "I did, and it wasn't fancy neither. I heard that cat as plain as
if it was alive."
"Well, I've heard of such things," said the other, "but I don't believe
'em. What a lark if the old cat comes back climbing up over the side out
of the sea to-night, with the brick hanging round its neck."
The skipper stared at him for some time without speaking. "If that's
your idea of a lark," he said at length, in a voice which betrayed
traces of some emotion, "it ain't mine."
"Well, if you hear it again," said the mate cordially, "you might let me
know. I'm rather interested in such things."
The skipper, hearing no more of it that day, tried hard to persuade
himself that he was the victim of imagination, but, in spite of this, he
was pleased at night, as he stood at the wheel, to reflect on the sense
of companionship afforded by the look-out in the bows. On his part the
look-out was quite charmed with the unwonted affability of the skipper,
as he yelled out to him two or three times on matters only faintly
connected with the progress of the schooner.
The night, which had been dirty, cleared somewhat, and the bright
crescent of the moon appeared above a heavy bank of clouds, as the cat,
which had by dint of using its back as a lever at length got free from
that cursed chest, licked its shapely limbs, and came up on deck.
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