The ocean wireless boys of the iceberg patrol
alarm as the portal was pulled back by Noddy. He saw what appeared to be a human face enveloped in pale green fire, out of which shone two luminous eyes.

“Swell ghost, eh?” chuckled Noddy, pulling him inside. “I made de stuff out’n match heads. Come on, here’s some fer you. Rub it on yer face an’ den I’ll give you yer shroud.”

He held up a shapeless-looking garment of white sail cloth that he had made, and at the same time cautiously turned up the flame of a lantern that stood in a corner so that Raynor could see.

“I don’t believe we can get away to-night in a small boat,” declared Raynor as he daubed on the phosphorescent solution under Noddy’s directions.

“Why not?” asked the Bowery lad.

“It’s too rough. Feel how the schooner is pitching. It’ll make the small boat dance about worse.”

“Well, we gotter take our chances on dat,” decided Noddy, “we’ll take a look when we git outside.”

At last the ghosts were ready. Raynor’s heart beat rather faster than was comfortable as they crept out upon the heaving, tossing decks. If their plan failed, and Terror Carson discovered it, a terrible fate might be in store for them. A strong wind whistled about them and a dash of rain beat in their faces.

“Gee! It is pretty bad, fer a fact,” declared Noddy. “Well, let’s get along to the stern.” They proceeded cautiously, doubled up under the shadow of the bulwark till they reached the break in the stern. Then, with an appalling yell, Noddy dashed up the steps leading on to the raised poop where the helmsman stood. Raynor was close behind him. Noddy’s shriek was echoed by a shout of alarm from Pompey.

“Gollyumptions! Ghostesses! De good lawd hab mussey on mah soul! Oh, Massa, ghostesses don’ hurt me! Wow!”

A wild yell of fear came from the trembling Pompey as Noddy raised a flaming hand and pointed straight at him. Pompey dropped the spokes of the wheel and dashed forward, leaping the break of the poop in one jump. At the same instant the schooner “broached to” as her helm was deserted. The canvas flapped wildly and she rolled in the trough of the seas. A giant wave broke over her bow with a sound like thunder.

At the same instant, from below, came a stentorian shout like the roar of an angry bull.

“On 
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