"Yes; but with the best Campbelton--some said Islay whisky--the quantity of which never diminished, yet it was never replenished by the steward, for the skipper seemed to prize his bottle as if it were the lamp of Aladdin, and always locked it carefully fast in the stern locker." "And where is this jolly old bottle now?" "At his death, he bequeathed it to a crack-brained skipper of Montrose, who, under its influence, astounded the public by the discoveries he made." "How?" "He sent the spirit of the bottle, in the form of a woman--a _clairvoyante_--to pry aboard a war ship in the West Indies; to search for Sir John Franklin; to visit his family in heaven, and bring back locks of their hair; to inquire after numerous enemies, who had all gone to the other place--and all of which revelations he duly recorded as they came to pass, in a Scotch newspaper, to the great astonishment of the queen's lieges." About twelve o'clock, Bartelot went on deck, and adjusted his night-glass to sweep the horizon; but so dark and hazy was the atmosphere, that a large ship might have been within three miles of the _Princess_ and yet have been invisible from her deck; so, as the middle watch was Morrison's, he and Morley turned in, and soon were sound asleep. At 4 P.M. the latter was awakened by the bell being struck, and the morning watch called. "Is that you, Morrison?" asked Bartelot, from his berth, as a step was heard in the cabin. "Yes, sir; I was just about to call you in haste." "About that rascally brigantine?" "No, sir." "What is in sight, then?? "Land on the weather-bow, and we are raising it fast." "Land!" exclaimed Bartelot, in astonishment. "Bearing about twenty miles distant." "Bah! Cape Flyaway. You have been at your Montrose skipper's wonderful dram-bottle." "Land as solid as the Bass Rock," continued the Scotchman obstinately; "I have just had a squint at it from the fore-crosstrees, and now mean to have a look at the chart." "This must be some of your second sight--there is no island hereabout, Morrison. Come Morley, turn out--tumble up, there, and let us have a look at Morrison's enchanted island. How's the wind?" "Veering ahead." "And how does she lie?" "East and by north," replied Morrison, glancing at the tell-tale compass that swung in the skylight, and which is constructed so as to hang with its face downward, for use in the cabin. Bartelot dressed in haste, and was soon on deck, where Morley joined him. Although our hero knew it not--for who can foresee what to-morrow may bring forth?--this enforced and necessary divergence from the vessel's proper course brought about a very strange episode, or adventure, which cast some light upon the origin, and, it might be, the crimes, of certain persons whom we have been, however unwillingly, compelled by the force of circumstances and the tenor of our story, to introduce to the reader. CHAPTER XXVI. THE STRANGE ISLAND.