Wapshott?"
"Below, sir, as I understand," answered Mr. Jope demurely.
"You mean to tell me, you '--' '--', that Mr. Wapshott allowed--"
But just then, from a hatchway immediately behind Captain Crang,
there slowly emerged--there uprose--a vision whereat our Major was
not the only spectator to hold his breath. A shock of dishevelled
red hair, a lean lantern-jawed face, desperately pallid; these were
followed by a long crane-neck, and this again was continued by a pair
of shoulders of such endless declivity as surely was never seen but
in dreams. And still, as the genie from the fisherman's bottle, the
apparition evolved itself and ascended, nor ceased growing until it
overlooked the Captain's shoulder by a good three-fourths of a yard,
when it put out two hands as if seeking support and stood swaying,
with a vague, uneasy smile.
"D'ye hear me?" thundered the Captain, leaning forward over the
ladder.
"Ay, ay, sir," Ben Jope answered cheerfully.
"Then what the '--' are ye staring at, you son of a '--'? Like a
stuck pig, '--' you! Like a clock-face! Like a glass-eyed cat in a
'--' thunderstorm! Like a--"
Here, as Captain Crang drew breath to reload, so to speak, a slight
yawing of the ship (for which the helmsman might be forgiven) brought
the tall shadow of the apparition athwart his shoulder, and fetched
him about with an oath.
"Eh? So _there_ you are!"
Mr.
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