“Tarbarrel, sir? The man who says he’s a king? He was praying to something⁠—it made the others restless. Mr. Olsen stopped it.” “I don’t like that,” said the skipper. “It was only an idol, sir.” “Oh.” “A stone or something.” “Oh.” “But he’s a bad one, sir⁠—a regular sullen one⁠— He⁠—eyes in the dark⁠—like a cat’s⁠—enough to give you⁠—” The mate was young. He shivered. “The creeps,” he said.