starboard
beam, as she should have been by rights if matters had turned out
differently; nor yet to port.

No, not a trace of her anywhere!

All of us seemed, really, to feel as if we had lost somebody or
something; and when, presently, the watch was piped down, we all went
below with saddened hearts.

"Oi wondther now," said Mick, when we were having our supper at our
messing-place aft on the lower deck a little later on, "if thet theer
vissil wor a raal ship, Tom, or a banshee?"

A man at the mess-table next ours heard his remark and burst out
laughing.

"I've heard tell o' the Flying Dutchman being seen in stormy weather
when going round the Cape," he said, speaking across the table in our
direction; "but I can't say as how I ever heard before of a banshee
adrift on the wide Atlantic Ocean!"

"Bedad, Oi say no rayson agin it," replied Mick, standing up for the
superstitions of his country like a man. "Faith, a banshee can go ony
whare he loikes."

"Ay?" said the other interrogatively. "What is a banshee, my lad?"

"Begorrah," answered Mick, crossing himself, "thet's more'n ony one
knows, may the saints presairve us fur mintionin' on 'em! They'll be
sperrits, Oi thinks, if Oi don't misremimber, ez can take ony shape they
plaizes!"

"Oh, spirits?" exclaimed the other man chaffingly, thinking he was going
to pull Mick's leg a bit. "What sort o' spirits, my lad--is it rum, or
gin, or whisky, now, you mean?"

Mick did not reflect a bit, but came out pat with his answer.

"Faith!" said he drily, setting the table in a roar as he winked from
one to the other of the mess opposite, though this wink of his was
hardly necessary, the habits and character of his questioner being very
well known throughout the ship, "it's a rum tasthe ye'd foind thim
sperrits, Oi'm afther thinkin', Misther Sharp! Bedad, yer gin wud be ez
hot ez ginger; an' it's preshus little toime ye'd hev fur tournin' down
the whisky, ez ye did, faith, the t'other day, whin ye wor brought up
'fore Noomber One on the quarther-deck, sure, fur goin' to shlape on the
watch! Begorrah, if ye don't look out sharp, Misther Sharp, ye'll hev
the divvle whiskin' ye off wid his tail, sure, fur thet same whisky
ye're talkin' of!"

"Well, well, my joker," said Sharp good-humouredly, joining in the laugh
of the rest of the chaps, though it was against himself; "I'm sorry I
hurt your feelings about that Irish banshee of yours!"

This turned the merriment