"Waal, there we was, a-buggaluggin' aroun' in the mos' permiskous fashion, like a fly in a plate o' butter. Night come on darker'n the inside o' an empty mess-chest with the lid shut down. We was a-rollin' an' a-rollin' so that I were more'n half afeard as how we'd roll the masts out o' the bloomin' hooker, an' most o' the men was on deck hangin' on fur dear life, an' waitin' to hear the wind begin fur to howl. But I kinder b'lieved myself that we wouldn't get it afore mornin'. Waal, all on a suddent down to the south'ard an' west'ard, on our stabboard quarter, there comes one o' the mos' awful ear-splittin' screeches I ever heerd in all my life. We all held our breath, an' I reckon most on us turned white. 'Cos w'y, none on us ever heerd any sich sound afore. In about three minutes we heerd it ag'in. Then the whole sky down there lit up with a big green flash, as ef all the green fireworks on 'arth'd gone off at oncet.
"'Wot in bloomin' Africa are it?' sez I to Hiram Sink, my mate, sez I.
"I were jess a-goin' to tell him that ghosts didn't walk aroun' at sea an' set off fireworks, w'en a shout from the hands forrad stopped me. There, broad off our stabboard quarter, about a mile away, were a brig lined out against the sky in a reg'lar skellington o' waverin' fire. It were the palest greenest sort o' fire, an' she looked like the ghost o' a brig.
"'The _Flyin' Dutchman_!' sez Hiram Sink, sez he.
"'By the great anchor flukes, them's it!' sez I.
"An' at that werry identical minute there were another one o' them awful screeches, an', pst! that there brig jess went out, like as ef ye'd turned off the gas.
"'We 'ain't got no show to git out o' this,' sez Hiram Sink, sez he.
"'Nary show. We got to go on them rocks sure,' sez I to he, sez I.
"A werry few minutes arter that a hand forrard yells, 'Steamer on the stabboard bow!'
"An', sure 'nuff, we could see the lights in her cabin. Nex' thing I knowed, there were a launch off our quarter, an' a voice hailed us,
"'I'm the owner o' that steam-yacht up there, an' I want to come aboard you,' sez he.
"So the launch come alongside, an' the man comes aboard. He sartinly were a pikooliar pusson. His face were so full o' wrinkles it looked like it were made o' rope, an' he had a stiff mustache as white as chalk. His eyes was little an' black an' piercin'. But he were dressed in the swellest kind o' yachtin' toggery ye ever seed, an' spite o' his lookin' a hundred years old, he skipped over the side like a midshipman. He come up to me with a jolly laugh, slapped me on the back, an' sez he to me, sez he,