That's what you're
mistaking for the cat, p'raps, sir."
"Can't you see anything, cook?" demanded the skipper.
"It may be fancy, sir," faltered the cook, lowering his eyes, "but it
does seem to me as though I can see a little misty sort o' thing there.
Ah, now it's gone."
"No, it ain't," said the skipper. "The ghost of Satan's sitting there.
The case seems to have fallen on its tail. It appears to be howling
something dreadful."
The men made a desperate effort to display the astonishment suitable to
such a marvel, whilst Satan, who was trying all he knew to get his tail
out, cursed freely. How long the superstitious captain of the Skylark
would have let him remain there will never be known, for just then the
mate came on deck and caught sight of it before he was quite aware of
the part he was expected to play.
"Why the devil don't you lift the thing off the poor brute," he yelled,
hurrying up towards the case.
"What, can YOU see it, Dick?" said the skipper impressively, laying his
hand on his arm.
"SEE it?" retorted the mate. "D'ye think I'm blind. Listen to the poor
brute. I should--Oh!"
He became conscious of the concentrated significant gaze of the crew.
Five pairs of eyes speaking as one, all saying "idiot" plainly, the
boy's eyes conveying an expression too great to be translated.
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