“Why, Ribault’s men must all be dead,” urged the boy.
“Yes, but one of ’em’s ghost isn’t—did yer ever see a French ghost?”
“No, I never have,” answered young John.
“Well, they’re the worst kind—I can tell yer that. Now this Ribault, when he sailed from France in that year, left a party of Huguenots and some sailors some where in Florida and he came back home to France. Well, these people that he left tried to make a settlement and they quarreled, for everybody wanted to be governor, and some of ’em up and says, ‘We’ll go back home—that’s what we’ll do?’ So they rigged up a sort o’ boat and started back to France. Well, as any one might know, that boat drifted about on the ocean one way and the other until, if ye’d believe it, she was half way across and then she went down and the crew of her took to the two small boats that they’d fetched along. Well, now, one of those
