"Of coorse," he a.s.sented. "And it's you that will have to bury me mighty soon, unless--"

"Unless what?" I demanded, in a bigger fright than ever at the thought of having to turn s.e.xton to a sperrit.

"Well, unless you give me something to ate and drink," says he.

"Take all there is in that locker," says I, "and welcome--and be off out of this."

"Don't say it agin," says he; and he opened the locker, and walked into the cook's store like a shark that had been kaping a six weeks' fast.

It was wonderful to see how the tears stood in the poor ghost's eyes, how his jaws worked, and his throat swelled, as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful, the bigness of a big man's fist. In a few minutes he turned to me, and said, "Take my blessing for this, Phil!"

I was startled to hear the ghost call me by my own name; but as I didn't want to encourage him to kape on visiting terms, I thought it wouldn't do to let him become too familiar, so I said, mighty stiff like, "Fill yourself, honest spirit, as much as you plase, but don't be Phil-ing me--I don't like such freedom on a short acquaintance--and you are no friend of mine," says I.

"I was onct," he replied.

"When?" asked I.

"When we were in the ould counthry," says he. "When you tuck the purse from me for Mary Sheean, and promised to spake the last words I spoke to her."

When I heard him say that, all my ould fears came over me fifty times stronger than ever, for hadn't I broken my promise to O'Rourke? And I could see now, from the family likeness, this was his spirit; and instead of telling her _all_ he said, only given half his message to poor Mary!

"Oh, be me sowl, good ghost!" says I.

"If I'm a ghost, I'm--"

He made a long pause, so I spoke.

"Never mind _what_," says I. "I don't want to axe any _post-mortem_ questions--"

"_Blest_!" says he.

"That's a great relief entirely," says I. "But if you are blessed, I'm no fit company for you; so never mind your manners--don't stay to bid me good-by, but go at onct!"

"You don't want me to stay?" says he.

"I don't," I replied.

"You are more changed than I am," he added.

"I shouldn't wonder," says I, "seeing the sort of company I am in."

"Do you find fault with my company?" asked he.

"I do," says I.

"And you wish me to go--down below again?"

"As soon as convanient," says I.

"Well, Philip Donavan," says he, "aither I or you are mortially changed."

"It's you," says I. "My turn hasn't come yet, but it will, all in good time."

"Phil Donavan, do you know who you are spaking to?"

"Faix I do, to my sorrow!" says I; "to Miles O'Rourke's ghost!"

"Miles O'Rourke's ghost!" says he.

"d.i.c.kens a doubt of it!" says I. "Didn't I see his body lying stark and dead, wid the blood welling out in gallons from his heart?"

"It wasn't my heart, man alive--it was my shoulder; and shure it was the loss of that same that made me faint! Take a hould of my hand, if you doubt me! There's little left of it but skin and bone; but it's human still!"

It was moightily against my own wish,--and wid a cowld shiver running down my back, I did as he asked; but whin I did catch a hould of his fist, ghost or no ghost, he nearly made mine into a jelly wid the squeeze he gave it.

"Murther alive!" says I.

"Hould your whist! Remember, I'm a ghost!" says he.

"That's thrue for you!" says I; "and you must continue one for the rest of the voyage, or maybe you will be trated as something worse!"

"What's that?" he asked.

"A stowaway!" says I. "The skipper's a good man enough; but if he discovers you, the way he'll sarve you will be awful!"

"What will he do?" inquired he.

"Give you thirty-nine and land you!" says I.

"Land me where?"

"In the middle of the say!" says I.

"Murther!" says he.

"Moighty like it," says I; "but he'll do it!"

"I'd have to give up the ghost then!" says he.

"You would, in airnest!" I tould him. "But you mustn't do it yet.

Tell me how you come on boord?"

"I will," says he. "When the boys found me, I had only a flesh wound, and had fainted from loss of blood. They got a car, and smuggled me down to Cork. I had scarcely set my fut on deck, as the peelers came rowing up the side. When the order was given to muster all hands, I made my way to the hould, and hid myself in the straw in an empty crate in the darkest corner of the place. The men searched pretty closely, but, as good luck would have it, they pa.s.sed by my hiding-place."

"You must go back to it. But now, Miles O'Rourke, answer me one question, and, as you are a man, answer it truly!"

"What is it?"