noon
A rat ? But I knew that even a ship rat did not grow large enough to move a trap-door . The ghost of some dead sailor-man , haunting the scene of his earthly misery ? Well , I had the superstitions of a foc ` sle Jack , but I knew well enough that a proper ghost would not walk abroad in the noon o ' day . I stared fascinated at that moving piece of wood . It slowly lifted about an inch , and then , through the narrow slit ; I saw an eye regarding me with a fixed glare . I glared back , my amazement struggling with the conviction that was oversweeping me ; and then , just as I was about to speak , Bucko Lynch 's voice came booming into my retreat . ''