But the stranger still lay on the water casks, kicking his heels and whistling his infernal tune, always the same. He wasn’t washed away nor moved by the action of the water; indeed, we heartily hoped and expected to see both him and the water cask floated overboard at every minute; but, as the captain said,— “Confound the binnacle! the old water tub seems as if it were screwed on to the deck, and won’t move off and he on the top of it.” There was a strong inclination to throw him overboard, and the men conversed in low whispers, and came round the captain, saying,— “We have come, captain, to ask you what you think of this strange man who has come so mysteriously on board?” “I can’t tell what to think, lads; he’s past thinking about—he’s something above my comprehension altogether, I promise you.” “Well, then, we are thinking much of the same thing, captain.” “What do you mean?” “That he ain’t exactly one of our sort.” “No, he’s no sailor, certainly; and yet, for a land lubber, he’s about as rum a customer as ever I met with.” “So he is, sir.” “He stands salt water well; and I must say that I couldn’t lay a top of those water casks in that style very well.” “Nor nobody amongst us, sir.” “Well, then, he’s in nobody’s way, is he?—nobody wants to take his berth, I suppose?” The men looked at each other somewhat blank; they didn’t understand the meaning at all—far from it; and the idea of any one’s wanting to take the stranger’s place on the water casks was so outrageously ludicrous, that at any other time they would have considered it a devilish good joke and have never ceased laughing at it. He paused some minutes, and then one of them said,— “It isn’t that we envy him his berth, captain, ’cause nobody else could live there for a moment. Any one amongst us that had been there would have been washed overboard a thousand times over.” “So they would,” said the captain. “Well, sir, he’s more than us.” “Very likely; but how can I help that?” “We think he’s the main cause of all this racket in the heavens—the storm and hurricane; and that, in short, if he remains much longer we shall all sink.” “I am sorry for it. I don’t think we are in any danger, and had the strange being any power to prevent it, he would assuredly do so, lest he got drowned.” “But we think if he were thrown overboard all would be well.” “Indeed!” “Yes, captain, you may depend upon it he’s the cause of all the mischief. Throw him overboard and that’s all we want.” “I shall not throw him overboard, even if I could do such a thing; and I am by no means sure of anything of the kind.” “We do not ask it, sir.” “What do you desire?” “Leave to throw him overboard—it is to save our own lives.” “I can’t let you do any such thing; he’s in nobody’s way.” “But he’s always a whistling. Only hark now, and in such a hurricane as this, it is dreadful to think of it. What else can we do, sir?—he’s not human.”