great
fire in the galley before going off on his last journey, and this was
now served out piping hot all round, the men helping themselves, for no
one had yet been elected to fill the darkey's vacant place. No one,
indeed, seemed anxious to remain longer than could be helped within the
precincts of the cook's domain, each man hurrying out again from the old
caboose as quickly as he filled his pannikin from the bubbling coppers
with the decoction of sloe leaves, molasses and water, which, when duly
boiled together does duty with sailor-folk for tea!

Then--sitting round the fo'c's'le, some on the edge of the
hatch-coaming, some dangling their legs over the windlass bitts, and
others bringing themselves to an anchor on a coil of the bower hawser,
that had not been stowed away properly below, but remained lumbering the
deck--all began to yarn about the events of the day. Their talk
gradually veered round to a superstitious turn on the second dog-watch
drawing to a close; and, as the shades of night deepened over our heads,
so that I could hardly now distinguish a face in the gloom, the voices
of the men sank down imperceptibly to a mere whisper, thus making what
they said sound more weird and mysterious, all in keeping with the scene
and its surroundings.

Of course, Sam formed the principal subject of their theme; and, after
speaking of what a capital cook and good chum he was, `fur a darkey,' as
Hiram Bangs put it, having some scruples on the subject of colour, from
being an American, Tom Bullover alluded to the negro's skill at the
banjo.

"Aye, bo, he could give us a toon when he liked, fur he wer mighty
powerful a-fingerin' them strings. He made the durned thing a'most
speak, I reckon," observed Hiram Bangs; adding reflectively,--"An' the
curiousest thing about him wer thet he wer the only nigger I ever come
athwart of ez warn't afeard of sperrits."

"Sperrits, Hiram?" interposed one of the other hands; "what does you
mean?--ghostesses?"

"Aye. Sam sed as how his father, a darkey too, in course, wer a fetish
man; an' I rec'l'ects when I wer to hum, down Chicopee way, ther' wer an
ole nigger thaar thet usest to say thet same, an' the ole cuss wud go of
a night into the graveyard, which wer more'n nary a white man would ha'
done, ye bet!"

"You wouldn't catch me at it," agreed another sailor, giving himself a
shake, that sent a cold shiver through me in sympathy. "I'd face any
danger in daylight that a Chr