he wall
opposite. It was one o'clock.

The hand that shook him belonged to MacLean. The old man was bending
over him with the white face of one who has seen a ghost.

"He's gone!" he softly exclaimed, before Martin could frame a question.

Startled, Martin sat up and swung his legs outboard.

"What--Little Billy?" A glance showed him the upper bunk was empty.

"Aye--Billy," responded Sails. "_Och_, 'tis a bad night outdoors,
lad--a thick, dark night. And Billy's gone. Didna' I see him in the
dark, and wearing the black shroud, these months agone! He was feyed!
Yon mount is the de'il's home, and others----"

"What are you talking about?" interrupted Martin impatiently. "What
nonsense! Isn't Little Billy on deck? Isn't he on watch?"

"On watch? Aye, who kens where he watches now? He's gone, I tell ye!"
hissed the old man fiercely. And then, apparently observing Martin's
bewilderment, he went on: "He has disappeared from deck. _Och_, I can
no say how! The Powers o' Darkness can no be seen through, and he was
under the black shroud! I saw him at one bell when he came for'rd and
routed me oot the galley where I was taking a wee spell.

"_Och_, 'tis a black, bad night the night. Ye canna' see your hand
afore ye. And Billy went aft, and I leaned on the rail, and
listened--listened, for I couldna' see. And I heard _It_! Aye, I
kenned 'twas _It_, for 'twas no the soond o' the waves, nor the calling
o' the birds, nor the splash o' anything that lives in the sea. I
kenned it was _It_. Hadna' I seen the shroud? Soonded like an oar
stroke. 'Twas the Prince o' Evil soonding his way, a-coming wi' his
shroud. _Och_! I run aft to tell Billy, and I tell ye, lad, Little
Billy was gone!"

MacLean leaned forward, grunting his words earnestly, his face working
with superstitious fear.

"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Martin. "You make me tired with your eternal
'fey' business. Little Billy is somewhere around the deck--probably
seeking you, this minute."

"He's gone!" reiterated Sails. "I searched, I tell ye! I got my
lantern, and I looked all aboot the poop, and all aboot the decks,
clear for'rd, and I sang oot as loud as I could wi'oot rousing all
hands--and no hide or hair o' Billy could I find. _Och_, he's gone, I
tell ye, lad. Didna' I see him lying stark in the dark place, wi' the
black shroud over him. The MacLeans ha' the sight, lad, and I am the
seventh son."

"All right, all right! Don't c