oke from the watch on the forecastle-head at
the sudden appearance on the bowsprit of a ball of light of a sickly
greenish hue, which I immediately recognised as a corposant, although I
had never seen one before, but had frequently heard them spoken of and
described. It was certainly a weird and uncanny sight to behold under
such circumstances, and was well-calculated to strike awe into the minds
of superstitious seamen, both from the suddenness and the mystery of its
appearance, and from its ghostly and unnatural aspect as it poised
itself out there on the end of the spar, clinging tenaciously thereto,
and alternately flattening and elongating as it swayed in unison with
the violent movements of the schooner. And while the men were still
gaping at it, open-mouthed, its sickly radiance faintly illuminating
their faces and causing them to wear the horrible aspect of decomposing
corpses, two others appeared, one on each of the lower mast-heads. For
perhaps two minutes, or it might have been a little longer, these last
two ghostly lanterns swayed and lengthened and contracted with the wild
plungings of the little craft. Then the one on the foremast-head let go
its hold and went drifting away astern until it was lost to sight, while
the one on the mainmast-head came gliding down the spar until it reached
the flooded deck, and vanished as though extinguished by the washing of
the water. While this was happening, the corposant on the bowsprit-end
also let go its hold and came floating inboard along the spar, causing a
regular stampede of the watch, who incontinently came rushing aft as far
as the mainmast, to get out of the way of their uncanny visitor, which,
however, vanished as it reached the knightheads.

"Ah," remarked the gunner, who had charge of the watch, "that means that
we're in for a heavy `blow', sir! I've seen them things often enough
afore, and I've always noticed that when any of 'em comes inboard, like
them two, extra bad weather is sure to foller. I partic'larly remembers
a case in p'int when I was up the Mediterranean in the old _Melampus_.
We was--"

"Listen!" I broke in unceremoniously, as a low, hoarse murmur became
audible above the voice of the gunner, the monotonous swish and splash
of the water across the deck and in over the bulwarks, and the creaking
and groaning of the ship's timbers. "Surely that is the wind coming at
last!"

At the same moment a gust of hot air came screaming and scuf