“Did you hear it, Sam?” called the skipper, as the old man was moving off. “Hear what, sir?” inquired Sam respectfully, without turning round. “Nothing,” said the skipper, collecting himself. “Nothing. All right.” The old man, hardly able to believe in his good fortune, made his way forward, and, seizing a favourable opportunity, handed his ungrateful burden back to the boy. “Fancy you heard a cat just now?” inquired the mate casually. “Well, between you an’ me, Dick,” said the skipper, in a mysterious voice, “I did, and it wasn’t fancy neither. I heard that cat as plain as if it was alive.” “Well, I’ve heard of such things,” said the other, “but I don’t believe ’em. What a lark if the old cat comes back climbing up over the side out of the sea to-night, with the brick hanging round its neck.” The skipper stared at him for some time without speaking. “If that’s your idea of a lark,” he said at length, in a voice which betrayed traces of some emotion, “it ain’t mine.” “Well, if you hear it again,” said the mate cordially, “you might let me know. I’m rather interested in such things.” The skipper, hearing no more of it that day, tried hard to persuade himself that he was the victim of imagination, but, in spite of this, he was pleased at night, as he stood at the wheel, to reflect on the sense of companionship afforded by the look-out in the bows. On his part the look-out was quite charmed with the unwonted affability of the skipper, as he yelled out to him two or three times on matters only faintly connected with the progress of the schooner. The night, which had been dirty, cleared somewhat, and the bright crescent of the moon appeared above a heavy bank of clouds, as the cat, which had by dint of using its back as a lever at length got free from that cursed chest, licked its shapely limbs, and came up on deck. After its stifling prison, the air was simply delicious. “Bob!” yelled the skipper suddenly. “Ay, ay, sir!” said the look-out, in a startled voice. “Did you mew?” inquired the skipper. “Did I _wot_, sir?” cried the astonished Bob. “Mew,” said the skipper sharply, “like a cat?” “No, sir,” said the offended seaman. “What ’ud I want to do that for?” “I don’t know what you want to for,” said the skipper, looking round him uneasily. “There’s some more rain coming, Bob.” “Ay, ay, sir,” said Bob. “Lot o’ rain we’ve had this summer,” said the skipper, in a meditative bawl. “Ay, ay, sir,” said Bob. “Sailing-ship on the port bow, sir.”