bent on to the cable, more cable paid
out, and we again rode all the easier. Our anchor-light was trimmed and
lighted and hoisted up, and we went below to our tea, or _supper_, as
sailors generally term it.

We had found the day dreadfully tedious, cooped up as we were in our low
cabin, and a meal was a most welcome break in the monotony.

We sat long over this one, therefore, prolonging it to its utmost
extent; and when it was over, we both turned to and cleared up the
wreck.

By the time that all was done it was intensely dark; but, before
settling down below for the night, we both put our heads up through the
companion to take a last look round.

Bob was rather beforehand with me, and he had no sooner put his head
outside than he pulled it in again, exclaiming, in an awe-struck tone:

"Look here, Harry; what d'ye think of this?"

I looked in the direction he indicated, and there, upon our lower-mast-
head, and also upon the trysail gaff-end, was a globe of pale, sickly
green light, which wavered to and fro, lengthening out and flattening in
again as the cutter tossed wildly over the mountainous seas.

It had not the appearance of flame, but rather of highly luminous mist,
brilliant at the core, and softening off and becoming more dim as the
circumference of the globe was reached; and it emitted a feeble and
unearthly light of no great power.

I had never seen such a thing before, but I had often heard of it, and I
recognised our strange visitors at once as _corposants_, or "lamps of
Saint Elmo," as they are called by the seamen of the Mediterranean;
though our own sailors call them by the less dignified name of "Davy
Jones' lanterns."

"What d'ye think of bein' boarded by the likes of that?" again queried
Bob, in a hoarse whisper. "Old Davy is out on a cruise to-night, I
reckon; and it looks as though he meant to pay _us_ a visit, by his
h'isting them two lanterns of his'n in our rigging. Did ye ever see
anything like it afore, Harry, lad?"

"Never," replied I, "but I have often heard them spoken of, old man; and
though they certainly _are_ rather queer to look at, they are easily
accounted for. I have heard, it said that they are the result of a
peculiar electrical condition of the atmosphere, and that the
electricity, attracted by any such points as the yard-arms or mast-heads
of a ship, accumulates there until it becomes visible in the form we are
now looking at."

"And is the light never visible