Glancing over the side, in the wake of every scupper- hole, we beheld a faded, crimson stain, which Jarl averred to be blood.

Though now he betrayed not the slightest trepidation; for what he saw pertained not to ghosts; and all his fears hitherto had been of the super-natural.
Indeed, plucking up a heart, with the dawn of the day my Viking looked bold as a lion; and soon, with the instinct of an old seaman cast his eyes up aloft.
Directly, he touched my arm,--"Look: what stirs in the main-top ?" Sure enough, something alive was there.
Fingering our arms, we watched it; till as the day came on, a crouching stranger was beheld.
Presenting my piece, I hailed him to descend or be shot.

There was silence for a space, when the black barrel of a musket was thrust forth, leveled at my head.

Instantly, Jarl's harpoon was presented at a dart;--two to one;--and my hail was repeated.

But no reply.
"Who are you ?" "Samoa," at length said a clear, firm voice.
"Come down from the rigging.