Willis the Pilot eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 322 pages of information about Willis the Pilot.

“‘You behold that treasure!’ said the spectre, in a hollow voice.

“’Ha, ha, old fellow! you can speak, can you?  Now we shall understand each other.  Yes, I see a box, filled with what looks very like gold and silver coins.’

“‘I placed that treasure there before my death,’ added the spectre.

“‘Ah, so! than you are dead?’ said Sam.

“’One half of that money I wish you to give to the poor, and the other half you may keep to yourself, if you choose.’

“‘Golley!’ said Sam, ’you are not much of a swab after all, though you look as thin as a purser’s clerk.  Give us a shake of your paw, my hearty.’

“Here Sam, somehow or other, stumbled over the lamp, and when he got up again the spectre had vanished.  He laid hold of the chest, however, and groped his way back to the mill.  When safe inside, he made a stiff jorum of grog, and then fell comfortably asleep.  That night he dreamt that he was eating gold and silver, that he was his own captain, that the cat-o’-nine tails was entirely abolished in the navy, and that his ship, instead of sailing in salt water was floating in rum.  When he awoke, the sun was steaming through all the nooks and crannies of the old mill.  All the marks of the preceding night’s adventures were there—­the gridiron, the empty rum jar, the the table o’erturned in the melee with the ghost—­but the chest of money was gone.”

“And what did Sam conclude from that incident?” inquired Fritz.

“Well, he supposed that he had slept rather long, and that somebody had come in before he as up and had walked off with the box.”

“If I had been in his place,” continued Fritz, “I should have said to myself that the mind often gives birth to strange fancies, particularly after a heavy supper, and that I had muddled my brain with rum; consequently, that all the things I imagined I had seen were only the chimeras of a dream.”

“But that could not be, Master Fritz, for two reasons; the first, that the mark of the ghost’s hand remained on his arm.”

“Very likely burnt it when he grilled the bacon.”

“The second, that the ghost was no more seen or heard of in the mill.”

“That proof is a poser for you, brother, I think,” said Jack.

“Did you heave that sigh just now, Master Fritz?” inquired Willis, in a low tone.

“It was not I,” said Fritz, looking at his brother.

“Nor I,” said Jack, looking at Willis.

“Nor I,” said Willis, looking behind him.

CHAPTER XXVI.

WILLIS FALLS IN WITH THE SLOOP ON TERRA FIRMA, INSTEAD OF AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA, AS MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED—­ADMIRAL CICERO—­THE DEFUNCT NOT YET DEAD.

The corvette, notwithstanding the multitude of British cruisers scattered about the ocean, and the other dangers that beset her, held on the even tenor of her way.  A gale sprung up now and then, but they only tended to give a filip to the common-place incidents recorded in the log.  This quietude was not, however, enjoyed by all the persons on board.  Willis was a prey to violent emotions; and so it often happens, in the midst of the profoundest calm, storms often rage in the heart of man.

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Willis the Pilot from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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