if you are still with us, you'll tell me into what port you wish me to
take the ship and I'll do it."

The old man gave him a look of savage spite, and said those atrocious
words in deadly, slow tones.

"If I had my wish, neither the ship nor any of you would ever reach a
port. And I hope you won't."

Mr. Burns was profoundly shocked. I believe he was positively frightened
at the time. It seems, however, that he managed to produce such an
effective laugh that it was the old man's turn to be frightened. He
shrank within himself and turned his back on him.

"And his head was not gone then," Mr. Burns assured me excitedly. "He
meant every word of it."

"Such was practically the late captain's last speech. No connected
sentence passed his lips afterward. That night he used the last of his
strength to throw his fiddle over the side. No one had actually seen
him in the act, but after his death Mr. Burns couldn't find the thing
anywhere. The empty case was very much in evidence, but the fiddle
was clearly not in the ship. And where else could it have gone to but
overboard?"

"Threw his violin overboard!" I exclaimed.

"He did," cried Mr. Burns excitedly. "And it's my belief he would have
tried to take the ship down with him if it had been in human power. He
never meant her to see home again. He wouldn't write to his owners, he