"Have you seen Master Tom? He hasn't been here all night. I slept too
sound to take much notice."

"Sakes alive, no!" cried burly Jake. "I run and search de ship plenty
quick." And away he went.

Webb was dressed and leaving his cabin when Jake returned. But neither
high nor low, fore nor aft, could Tom be found, nor had he been seen
since the main-topsail had carried away just before midnight.

The captain was now roused and the terrible news reported.

"Poor Tom! poor Tom! Washed overboard without a doubt!" he said.

Tom had been a great favourite on board, and the news caused a general
gloom all over the ship.

But Broomberg and his mates received the news in another way.

"It is von unlucky ship," cried the former, "and did not those below hear
the shrieking of the ghosts when the waves and wind were highest? Come we
to the captain at once, men. I will not sail in a haunted ship. No, no."

Some minutes before eight bells rang out in the morning air, the captain
on the quarter-deck, with Mr. Webb and the professor, were engaged in
angry talk with Broomberg and his fellows.

"Return to your duty, men," the captain said. "I will make enquiries
into the matter. As for you, Broomberg, hand over that knife you are
fingering, and consider yourself under arrest."