"There was once just ten in the Sallie Sue, As we sailed the watery plain. But the sharks gobbled every one but me, And now I'm back again." "Get below, boys! Get below!" yelled Widdy, showing every appearance of fear. "Get below, if you value your lives!" and he clapped both hands over his ears, and hobbled toward the companionway, his pipe falling from his chattering teeth, and smashing to fragments on the deck. "What's the matter?" cried Dick. "That's a mermaid! A mermaid singing!" replied the old salt, "and it's death to every man within the sound of her voice! Get below, boys! Get below!" CHAPTER XIV JUST IN TIME Dick and Paul did not know whether to laugh at the old sailor, or follow him in his mad rush for the forecastle. This latter inclination was not because of any fear of the superstition regarding mermaids, but because they thought there might be a collision with the unseen vessel, and it would be wise to prepare for it. Once more, out of the fog and mist came the voice: "I remember well, in the days of old, How a sailor lad named Bill Fell overboard near the Hole in the Wall, A dolphin's maw to fill. "Oh, it's there one night, a terrible sight, Did happen----" "Ahoy there!" yelled Dick. "Who are you, and where are you going?" for it needed but a moment's harkening to the second part of the song to demonstrate that it issued from the mouth of some burly follower of the sea and not from the salty lips of some fish-maiden. "Who are you?" back came the challenge from the swirling fog. "The yacht _Albatross_, bound for Havana," answered Dick. "Who are you?" "I'm a lobsterman, fog-bound, and my 'put-put' boat is out of gasolene. For the love of Davy Jones, have you any aboard? I've been here ten hours, and I'm hungry enough to eat a raw crab. Give a hail until I get my bearings." "A lobsterman!" cried Paul. "And old Widdy thought it was a mermaid!" Jack called to Midwell, the mate, to have the whistle sounded, and then, yelling to the unseen mariner to approach slowly, the two lads peered forward from the bow of the yacht, for the first glimpse of the helpless craft. There was the sound of oars being used, and presently there loomed up through the mist a small dory motorboat, containing a grizzled son of the sea, his craft piled high with boxes of lobsters. A moment later Widdy popped his head up through the companionway. Behind him were several of the crew. "Is--is she--has she sung again?" asked the wooden-legged sailor, cautiously. "It doesn't happen to be a 'she,' Widdy," answered Dick. "You don't mean to say that it's a he-one, do you?" "It's a lobsterman," spoke Paul. "He's out of gasolene. Have we any, Captain Barton?" for the commander was approaching. "Yes, I guess there's some among the stores." The lobster boat came alongside, and a very much relieved fisherman looked up at the trim yacht.