‘“He rose one evening, just in the twilight, and ordered the captain to put his boat into the water, though none of us thought a boat would live in such a sea, and none built by man’s hand could. But that one”—and the old sailor pointed to the sea-worn craft, with her bottom one bed of weed and barnacles—“but that one floated like a duck upon the great breaking seas; and presently, with grave courtesy and farewell gesture, Foul-Weather Don stepped to the gangway, and from thence on board his skiff. We saw him once or twice rising on the tops of the great seas, and standing up in the boat with his hands clasped, as one praying; then boat and all disappeared, and we saw him no more. The next hour the gale broke, the sea went down, and we were again enabled to lay our proper course.” ‘“And what is Foul-Weather Don doing in the cabin just now?” says Ned. ‘“Sitting with his back against the rudder-case,” answered Captain Purvis; “and see—look there!” the old man added, and he pointed to the east, “look at that bank of clouds rising from the ocean—there’s the gale coming. Before midnight Foul-Weather Don will have all his winds blowing about him.” ‘With this, mates, Ned Purvis walked away forward, and pondered long and deeply. The rest of the crew were whispering in groups upon the forecastle, and the poor old captain was standing wringing his hands beside the magic boat. So presently Ned spoke to two or three of the men, and they shook hands with him and promised to stand by him. Then he went down to his berth and took out a great pistol, and carefully examined the lock and cleaned it; afterwards he opened his chest, and produced from it a bright Spanish dollar; this he hammered into a round ball, and with it, instead of a leaden bullet, he loaded the pistol. So presently, armed in this fashion, he came on deck, the men following him by ones and twos, and marched right to the door of the great cabin. His uncle met him at the door. “What do you want here?” quoth the old man; “take my advice, and let him alone.” ‘“No,” says Ned, “I brought him here, and I’ll make you rid of him;” and so saying, he put the old man aside, and entered the cabin. It was almost dark, but the light from the binnacle came down through the sky-light, and showed the strange passenger sitting there, as the captain had described, with his back to the rudder-case. ‘Ned Purvis marched heavily in, and the phantom, or whatever it was, looked up at him, and so they remained for more than a minute staring into each other’s eyes. The men were watching them over each other’s shoulders at the door. ‘“Foul-Weather Don,” says Ned at last, as bold as steel, “you’re more free than welcome.” The spectre took no notice.