" cried Pete, who slept with one eye open after the manner
of sailors.

The boys gave a deep groan and then Irish roused up. Pete was already
wide awake, and aghast at what he saw, two greenish-white faces in the
gloom and with audible groans too. At first he was paralyzed, then
Irish broke the spell.

"Howly Saints!" he yelled, "it's the devil!"

Then he sprang from his bunk yelling at every second, and made for the
ladder. Pete wasted no breath in yells. He put it into action. When
the boy gave his first yell the old sailor likewise jumped for the
ladder; no matter if he did have to pass within a few inches of those
ghostly ghosts, the fresh air for him.

It was a case of two minds with but a single thought, for old Pete and
the boy met at the ladder and then there was a wild scramble. First
Pete would start part way up and Irish would pull him down, then the
boy would get up a ways and Pete would yank him deckward and the boy
was yelling for help with every breath. It was a regular cat fight and
Tom and Jo were weak from suppressed laughter, at the exhibition. It
was funny in a way, but those laugh best who laugh last sometimes, as
Jo and Tom were likely to find out.

Finally the boy did get out on deck with Pete at his heels, and they
ran aft yelling at the tops of their voices.

"Murther!" "Haul in," according to their different modes of
expressions.

"What's the matter with you wild Indians?" roared the captain from his
station at the wheel. "Get below there till you are called."

It was lucky for them that he was not free to get at them, for the
old captain was doubly irritated by their outcry since he had been
somewhat nervous himself. Pete and the lad ran aft as though the devil
indeed was after them. Jim heard the commotion just as he started down
the ladder, and in a jiffy he had collared the runaways.

"Here, shut up!" he yelled, shaking them fiercely. "What's all this
noise about?"

It took a couple of minutes before he could get anything coherent out
of them. When he found out what they had to tell he started for the
forecastle, grabbing a belaying pin on his way. He was thoroughly
aroused, and he knew something was wrong, but he could not divine what
it was.

"What's the matter with those boobies?" cried the captain when he saw
the tall figure in the darkness making for the forecastle.

"Think they have seen ghosts," yelled Jim, "as near as I can make out,
dreaming, I guess."

"I'd give