"Something queer on this ship, I tell you," declared the leader. "First Pedro goes overboard and then Antonio follows him. Sebastian, you take the wheel."
"Not me," came the reply. "I'm not going overboard if I can help it. Take the wheel yourself."
A wrangle followed, with the result that the leader was forced to take the wheel. Looking out again, Jack saw that the man was peering out over the water. Softly he again dropped to the deck, and stole upon the unsuspecting leader.
A fierce struggle ensued. The Italian was a big man, and in spite of Jack's strength and size, he put up a furious battle. The two rolled against the rail, there was a sharp crack and with a loud cry the leader suddenly went overboard. Jack jumped back to the skylight and crouched down; and it was not a moment too soon.
"He's gone all right," said one, gazing at the spot where the leader had stood a moment before.
"Yes, he's gone," said another. "I guess it will be our turn next."
Suddenly a cry from the water drew their attention.
"It's Ferdinand," said one of the sailors, "and he is swimming."
"What's to be done?" demanded another. "We can't let him drown like that."
"No," replied another. "Francisco and I will get out the boat and pull him in. You stay here," turning to the third man.
"What!" came the reply. "Stay here by myself?"
"You do as I say. We have got to get Ferdinand."
Suddenly Jack was struck with an idea. He was well aware of the superstitious nature of sailors, and he planned to play upon it. He descended to the cabin and from the wall took a suit of the captain's oilskins. Then he went back on deck.
Two of the men had gone over the side in the small boat, and the remaining sailor was now engaged in hanging a lamp from the stern. Jack silently approached him.
Having secured the lamp, the sailor took a long look out over the sea and then turned toward the deck; and as his eyes fell on the tall, oil-skinned figure, he uttered a gasp of horror, and began to shuffle backward.
"The captain's ghost!" he exclaimed in an awed voice.
Suddenly the sailor's heels caught on a ringbolt and he staggered and fell on the deck with a howl of terror; but in another instant he had scrambled to his feet and rushed away forward, whence the slam of the forecastle scuttle announced his retirement to a place of safety.