“HALLOO! what do you want here, you lubbers?” demanded the captain, as the sailors, headed by Upham, ranged themselves on the quarter-deck in front of him and took off their caps. “I don’t allow any such doings as this aboard my ship. Go for’ard where you belong.”

“We haven’t come for any mischief, cap’n,” said Upham, who had been chosen to do the talking for his companions. “We’re all sailor men, and know our duty.”

“Then go for’ard and do it,” said the skipper angrily. “Away you go.”

“We’re ready to obey orders, cap’n, and you sha’n’t have a word of fault to find with none of us, if you will only think up some way to git rid of them other fellows. It’s more than human flesh and blood can stand to have them aboard here.”

“What other fellows?”

“Why, them in the hold that keeps up such a wailing and groaning all the while.”

“Get out o’ this!” shouted the captain, looking about the deck as if he were searching for something to throw at Upham’s head. “I’ve heard enough. You pulled the wool over the eyes of a lot of soft Tommys on shore and kept us waiting three days for a crew, but you can’t talk any of your ghost stories into me. Go to your duty.”

“We’ve done our duty since we’ve been aboard, cap’n,” returned Upham, “and we’re ready to keep on doing it if you will only get rid of that other crew, but not a tack or sheet do we touch till this thing has been looked into. We’ve all made up our minds to that.”

“Oh, you’re going to mutiny, are you?” roared the skipper, his face growing purple with fury. “I’ll show you how I deal with such men. Mr. Schwartz, just step down into the cabin and bring up my pistols.”

The second mate started in obedience to the order, but the sailors, who were drawn up in line across the deck, moved forward as one man, and stood between him and the companion-way.

Things were getting serious, and Guy, who stood on the outskirts of the crowd, began edging his way toward the bow. Was he going after his handspike? No; he intended to dodge into the forecastle, where he would be safe. If the captain was going to use fire-arms to bring his crew to their senses, he did not want to be found in the way of the bullets.

The skipper’s actions indicated that he was in just the right humor to do something desperate. He stamped about the deck and swore at the top of his voice, but it was plain that, in spite of all his bluster, he was cowed by the bold front of his crew. When he paused to take breath, Upham spoke.

“We don’t want to go agin yer, cap’n,” said he, “and we don’t want to talk no ghost stories into you, neither. All we ask of you is to come down into the forecastle and listen to ’em with your own ears. I’ve heard ’em, and I hain’t a boy to be scared at nothing. I snuffed salt water before you ever saw daylight.”

The captain seemed on the point of making an angry reply, but just then the second mate, after holding a short consultation with the first officer, stepped up and said something to him in a whisper. The sailors could not hear what it was, but they saw the skipper’s face brighten at once.

“It may be possible,” said he, aloud. “I did not think of that. Come on, men; I’ll soon get at the bottom of the matter.”

The captain led the way into the forecastle, and the sailors flocked down the ladder after him, Guy bringing up the rear.

“Now fetch on your ghosts,” said the skipper, seating himself on one of the bunks.

“Avast heaving a minute, cap’n, and you’ll see ’em,” said Upham.

The silence that followed continued so long that the sailors began to get impatient, but not so the captain. The few words the second mate whispered in his ear had aroused some suspicions in his mind, and he was resolved that they should either be confirmed or entirely set at rest before he left the forecastle.

Ten minutes passed, and then the groans that had startled the crew the night before were distinctly heard, followed by the low murmur of conversation. The captain seemed very much annoyed. He arose from his seat, and placing his ear close against the bulk-head, stood there listening intently until the sounds ceased.

“They’re there sure enough, cap’n,” said Upham. “You see that we wasn’t complaining of nothing.”

“I am satisfied of it now,” was the reply. “Get lanterns, a couple of you, and all the port watch come with me into the hold. Bring handspikes every mother’s son of you.”

“Handspikes won’t do no good,” growled Flint, after the captain had ascended from the forecastle.

“No,” assented Upham. “I never yet heard of a ghost being knocked down and put in irons.”

Judging by the expression on the faces of the sailors, there was not a man in the port watch who did not wish that somebody besides himself had been called upon to accompany the captain. The alarm that prevailed among them was contagious, and even Guy began to give way to it. He believed, with Flint and Upham, that there was something in the hold that could not be overcome with weapons, and when he went aft with his watch, armed like the rest with a handspike, he stationed himself at the heels of the captain with the determination to keep close to him. He had faith in the skipper’s courage and prowess, and, moreover, he saw that the latter carried pistols in his pockets. Pistols were better than handspikes any day, even in an encounter with ghosts.

In obedience to the orders of the mate, one of the hatches was opened, and the captain descended into the hold, followed by the port watch. Slowly they made their way along a narrow passage toward the place where the water-butts were stowed, and when they came within sight of them they stopped, astonished by the scene presented to their gaze. Some of the sailors took just one look, and then uttered exclamations of alarm and turned to retreat. Guy would have done the same, only he could not. He was so badly frightened that he could neither move nor speak.

A portion of the cargo had been broken out, forming a clear space about six feet square and as many feet deep, and in it were seated the objects that had excited his alarm—not ghosts, but living men, who held cocked pistols in their hands, and whose faces denoted that they were anything but pleased at the discovery of their hiding-place. In the center of this clear space was a fourth man, lying flat on his back, and pinned down by a box of goods which had doubtless been thrown upon him by the lurching of the vessel. The box was so large and heavy, and his companions had so little room to work in, that they had not been able to release him; and there the poor fellow had lain for long hours suffering intense agony, which was increased by every lurch the vessel gave. He it was who had given utterance to the groans which had so greatly alarmed the crew. The men, whoever they were, had come on board prepared for a long voyage, for they had brought with them a large bag of provisions, and had tapped one of the butts to get a supply of water.

“Well,” said the captain, as soon as the volley of exclamations which arose from the sailors had subsided, so that he could make himself heard, “this thing has turned out just as I expected it would. You’re the lads that robbed the jewelry store, I suppose.”

“Why, so they are!” exclaimed Guy, who now comprehended the matter perfectly; “I knew they couldn’t be ghosts.”

“Who and what we are is no business of yours,” answered one of the men gruffly.

“It isn’t, ’eh?” exclaimed the captain. “I am master of this ship, if you only knew it. Come up out of that.”

“No, we’ll not go up, and if you know when you are well off you’ll not come down to us, either. We are all armed, as you see, and the first man who makes a move to lay a hand on us will get a bullet through his head.”

“Cap’n,” said Flint, who was brave enough now that he knew they had live men and not dead ones to deal with, “just say the word and I’ll jump down there and toss that fellow out before he knows what is the matter with him.”

“No, no,” said the captain. “Stay where you are. I know how to deal with ’em. Where are you lads going?” he added, holding one of the lanterns over the robbers’ hiding-place and taking a good survey of it.

“We’re going wherever the ship goes,” was the surly reply.

“Well, you’ll have a good long ride. This cargo will not be broken out under seven or eight months. Have you got provisions enough to last you that long?”

“You needn’t lose no sleep in worrying about that.”

“I won’t, for it’s your lookout, not mine. Hadn’t you better let me rig a whip and hoist that box off that man? It’s a pity to keep him in that fix.”

“And after you get it hoisted off you would try to come some of your sailor tricks over us,” said the robber. “We ain’t quite so green as that. You just go off and attend to your own business. We’ll take care of him.”

“All right. Mark you now, my fine lads, I’m going to close and batten down my hatches, and they sha’n’t be opened again until we reach port, no matter what happens. If the ship goes to the bottom you go with her, and without a chance to save yourselves.”

The skipper turned and crawled back toward the hatchway as he said this, and the watch followed him. They found their companions on deck impatiently awaiting their return, and when they heard what the captain had to say to his mates, and learned that the men in the hold were not ghosts, as they had supposed, but a gang of burglars, who, in spite of the vigilance of the watch, had succeeded in smuggling themselves on board before the ship left port, their surprise knew no bounds. Their faces, too, as well as the long, deep sighs which came up from their broad chests showed that their relief was fully as great as their astonishment.

Guy and the four men he had found on board the Santa Maria when he first joined her, knew more about the matter than anybody else, except the officers, they having been on deck while the policeman was talking with the captain about the burglars. They were obliged to repeat all they had heard over and over again, first to one and then to another, and Guy always wound up by declaring that that was the way all ghost stories turned out—they could be explained easily enough if people would only take the trouble to look into them.

“Avast there!” said Upham, who happened to overhear this last remark. “You ain’t done with the old Santa Maria yet. You hain’t seen the ghost who gets up on the main-topsail yard every night during a gale and says:

“Stand from under!”

By the time the hatches had all been closed and securely fastened, the captain came up out of his cabin, where he had been busy with his chart. A few rapid orders, which Guy, as usual, failed to comprehend, were issued, and the ship stood off on another course.

“The old man isn’t letting grass grow under his feet,” said Flint to Guy, as he came down out of the top. “He’s going to get rid of them fellows.”

“What is he going to do with them?” asked Guy.

“He’s going to put ’em ashore. We’re heading for some port now.”

“Are we?” exclaimed Guy, highly delighted at this piece of news. “I wish we were there now,” he added, sinking his voice to a whisper, and looking all about to make sure that there was no one within hearing. “You wouldn’t see me in half an hour from this time. I am going to desert.”

“And I don’t blame you,” said Flint.

“You will go with me, won’t you?”

“What are you going to do?” asked the sailor; “find another ship?”

“No, sir,” said Guy emphatically. “If I ever put my foot on the deck of another vessel as a foremast hand, I hope she will go to the bottom with me. I am going to stay ashore; you may depend upon that.”

“Then I don’t see what good it will do me to go with you, Jack. I’d have to ship again at once, for I’ve got no money, and I couldn’t find any work to do ashore, not being a landsman. I might as well stay here. Now that I know we’ve got no ghosts aboard I shall like the Santa Maria as well as any other ship.”

“Then I shall have to go alone, I suppose,” said Guy. “I don’t like to leave you, Flint, but I can’t stand this any longer. I am black and blue all over from the poundings I have received.”

“And you’re getting as thin as the royal yard,” said Flint. “You’ll be bait for the crows if you stay aboard this craft till we reach the Sandwich Islands, and that’s where we’re bound.”

“The Sandwich Islands!” repeated Guy. “I thought we were going up the Mediterranean.”

“Oh, that’s only one of the pack of lies that shipping agent told you,” said the sailor, with a laugh. “If you had looked at the articles you signed, you would have found out all about it. We’re going to discharge our cargo at San Francisco, take another from there to Honolulu, and fill up again for New Orleans. Where we shall go after that I don’t know.”

“We’re going round the Horn, I suppose?”

“Of course. They don’t take ships over the isthmus yet.”

“Then I understand why Smith made me buy so many thick clothes. He said perhaps I’d see some cold weather.”

“And so you will,” said Flint. “I’ll help you to get off if I can, but I don’t see the use of going with you. I’d have to leave you again, unless you would go to sea in some other vessel.”

“And that I’ll never do. I’ll starve on shore first.”

“And I’ll stay aboard the Santa Maria. Have you got any money?”

“Yes, I have sixty dollars and a little over. Do you want some of it?”

“No, I don’t,” said the sailor quickly. “I sha’n’t need any while I am at sea, but you’ll need it ashore. Here,” he added, taking off his monk-bag and handing it to Guy, “keep this to remember me by. Put your money in it, and tie it around your neck, and you won’t be likely to lose it. You can’t take your bundle with you, of course, so when we reach port you had better put on another suit of clothes under those you’ve got on now, and stow away all the dunnage about you that you can without making yourself look too fat. If you put on too much you might as well try to leave the ship with a chest on your shoulder, for the mates will know in a minute what you’re up to. They’re posted in all sailor tricks. We sha’n’t be long in port, so you had better be in a hurry. Whatever you do, don’t be caught, or you’ll sup sorrow with a spoon as big as a water-butt.”

This made Guy open his eyes. He had not expected to find any serious obstacle in his way. If the ship came to anchor in the harbor to which they were bound, especially if they arrived there during the night, it would be but little trouble for him to drop overboard from the fore-chains and swim ashore, provided the distance were not too great; and if she were made fast to the dock, it would be still less trouble to leave her. But now he knew that the officers would be on the watch, that they well understood every device that could be resorted to by deserters, and that if he were caught in the act of leaving the vessel, the treatment he had hitherto received would be mild in comparison with the punishment that would be inflicted upon him. The thought almost took Guy’s breath away, but it did not discourage him. He had fully made up his mind to desert the vessel if it were within the bounds of possibility, and was not to be easily frightened from his purpose.

He conferred with Flint at every opportunity, and made all necessary preparations, selecting the clothes he intended to take with him, and tying them up in a separate bundle together with the “Boy Trappers,” the book that belonged to Henry Stewart. This book Guy had carefully preserved. It was the only thing he had left of the hunting outfit which he had brought with him from home.

On the third day after the discovery of the robbers in the hold, land was in sight once more, and at nine o’clock in the evening the Santa Maria entered the port toward which the captain had shaped her course, and was made fast to the wharf.

Guy did not know what the name of the town was or what country it was in, and he did not think to inquire. All he cared for was to get safely off the vessel; he could get his bearings afterward.

As soon as the ship touched the dock the captain jumped ashore, and hurried away in the darkness—he was going after some officers to arrest the men in the hold, Flint said—and Guy ran into the forecastle to make ready for his attempt at desertion. He hastily pulled on the clothes he had selected, secured the “Boy Trappers” about his person, and having examined his monk-bag to make sure that his money was safe, presented himself before his friend, who nodded approvingly.

“It’s all right,” said the sailor. “You’ll pass in the dark. Now stand here by the side, and I’ll go aft and keep an eye on the mates. When I see that they are not looking toward you, I’ll cough this way—here Flint gave an illustration—and do you jump ashore, and run as if Old Nep was after you with his three-pronged pitchfork. I can’t shake hands with you for fear they’ll see me and suspect something; but you won’t forget me, will you, Jack?”

“Never,” replied Guy. “You have been very kind to me, and I wouldn’t leave you under any other circumstances.”

Flint, who did not care to prolong the interview, walked leisurely aft, and Guy leaned over the side and impatiently waited for the signal.