"I didn't look. I thought I saw something white moving below me,

and I was watching it."

"This white thing--what did it look like?" "Like a dog, I should

say. It moved about, and then disappeared."

"How?"

"I don't understand."

"Over the rail?"

"Oh--no, sir. It faded away."

"Had you ever heard talk among the men of the Ella being a haunted

ship?"

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"Yes--but not until after I'd signed on her!"

"Was there some talk of this 'white thing'?"

"Yes."

"Before the murders?"

"No, sir; not till after. I guess I saw it first."

"What did the men say about it?"

"They thought it scared Mr. Schwartz overboard. The Ella's been

unlucky as to crews. They call her a 'devil ship.'"

"Did you see Mr. Singleton on deck between two and three o'clock?"

"No, sir."

The cross-examination was very short:-"What sort of night was it?"

"Very dark."

"Would the first mate, as officer on watch, be supposed to see that

the emergency case you speak of was in order?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did the officer on watch remain on the forecastle-head?"

"Mr. Schwartz did not; Mr. Singleton did, mostly except when he went

back to strike the bells."

"Could Mr. Singleton have been on deck without you seeing him?"

"Yes, if he did not move around or smoke. I could see his pipe

lighted."

"Did you see his pipe that night?"

"No, sir."

"If you were sick, would you be likely to smoke?"

This question, I believe, was ruled out.

"In case the wheel of the vessel were lashed for a short time, what

would happen?"

"Depends on the weather. She'd be likely to come to or fall off

considerable."

"Would the lookout know it?"

"Yes, sir."

"How?"

"The sails would show it, sir."

That closed the proceedings for the day. The crowd seemed reluctant

to disperse. Turner's lawyers were in troubled consultation with

him. Singleton was markedly more cheerful, and I thought the

prosecution looked perturbed and uneasy. I went back to jail that

night, and dreamed of Elsa--not as I had seen her that day, bending

forward, watching every point of the evidence, but as I had seen her

so often on the yacht, facing into the salt breeze as if she loved

it, her hands in the pockets of her short white jacket, her hair

blowing back from her forehead in damp, close-curling rings.




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