"We struck something," he cried. "I most believe it was part of a boat."
"Something from the Spitfire most likely," I returned.
"I don't know—but—but"
"But what, Phil—what ails you?"
"I believe there was a man on it!" he said, in an awful whisper. "I couldn't see very well. It gave me a fearful scare."
"A man! Are you sure?"
"No, but it looked like a man. My, it was terrible!"
"You look it. In what direction was it?"
Phil pointed over his left shoulder. I peered through the gloom as best I could, but could see nothing.
"Well, it's gone now, whatever it was," I said. "Are you quite sure you didn't fall asleep and dream it?"
"Oh, I wasn't asleep. I'm not a bit sleepy after my long nap. I am sorry I disturbed you, but but I couldn't help it."
"That's all right," said I, with a yawn. "Well I might as well turn in again, eh?"
"Yes, turn in by all means."
Once more I crawled beneath the canvas. I had not heard a single cry, and I was inclined to think
