"Ye won't be froightened, sure," he began, in a very solemn tone, the more to impress the anxious listener, "if Oi'm afther tillin' ye the whole thruth, now?" "Frightened! No," replied Joblins defiantly, but looking nervous all the same. "I ain't so soon frightened as that, Mick!" "All roight, me joker," said Mick. "Oi ownly thort ez how Oi'd not take ye onywheres, ye know; but, faith, ez Oi say ye're so brave a chap, Oi'll now carry on an' till ye all about a raal banshee Oi saw t'other noight." Joblins moved uneasily on his seat. "What!" he cried. "Yer doan't mean aboard this yere ship?" "Ay, faith," said Mick coolly; "it wor aboord this virry ship, begorrah!" "Lor'!" stammered out `greeny,' whose face we could see was quite pale from the light of the ship's lantern near, it having got dark now on the lower deck through the closing in of the evening early, we being still in tropical latitudes. "I thort them things only came on land." "That's where you're wrong, Joblins," put in Harris, his old tormentor, backing up Mick most effectively in his attempt at taking a rise out of the yokel. "Spirits aboard ship is pertic'lerly partial to water, as every one knows!" Passing by this ironical allusion of Harris to the current belief of all hands anent the watering of the men's grog by the steward, which was received with much favour by those standing round, Mick went on as gravely as a judge. "Yis, sor, it wor aboord this viry ship thet Oi sayd me last spirrit, sure," said he. "Lit me say--it moost hev bin a wake, ay, or mebbe t'wor longer agone than thet. Oi wor a-coomin' oop the forepake afther dark, jist ez it mebbe now. Ye knows the forepake, Joblins?" "Ye-e-es," stuttered out `greeny,' his jaw dropping with fright, and his mouth open as big as a teacup. "I--I--I knows the forepeak, mate." "Will, thin," continued Mick, "ez Oi came out on dick oop the fore- hatchway, be the powers, I says, sure, a tirrible big black thing roight foreninst me, wid its long arrums stritched oot on ayther soide; an' whin Oi looked oop fur to say if the onairthly craychur hed ony hid on him--" "Lor'!" cried Joblins, interrupting him at this thrilling point, all agog with excitement; "what did you see, mate?" "Faith," replied my chum, with a grin, "the poor craychur hed no hid at all, at all, sure! Begorrah, all he hed, sure, wor a spud-net, same as ye titched yer sicond 'lowance ov grog t'other day wid, Misther Joblins; an' this wor stuck atop ov wun ov the min's oilskins thet he'd hoong oot fur to dhry in the fore rigging. Thet wor the spirrit I sayd." The roar of the boatswain's mate calling `all hands' to make sail, at this juncture drowned the general laugh that went round the mess at poor Joblins' expense; and, exchanging the warm atmosphere of the lower deck for the boisterous weather above, we were soon engaged in the more arduous task of pulling ropes than other people's legs!