“It was some little time after six bells, that the order came for all hands to shorten sail for the night. We took in the royals and t’gallants, and then the three courses. It was shortly after this, that a rumour went round the ship that there was to be no lookout that night after eight o’clock. This naturally created a good deal of talk among the men; especially as the yarn went, that the fo’cas’le doors were to be shut and fastened as soon as it was dark, and that no one was to be allowed on deck.
“ ‘ ’oo’s goin’ ter take ther wheels?’ I heard Plummer ask.
“ ‘I s’pose they’ll ’ave us take ’em as usual,’ replied one of the men. ‘One of ther officers is bound ter be on ther poop; so we’ll ’ave company.’
“Apart from these remarks, there was a general opinion that—if it were true—it was a sensible act on the part of the Skipper. As one of the men said:—
“ ‘It ain’t likely as there’ll be any of us missin’ in ther mornin’, if we stays in our bunks all ther blessed night.’
“And soon after this, eight bells went.
XVI
The Ghost Pirates
A
t the moment when eight bells actually went, I was in
the fo’cas’le, talking to four of the other watch. Suddenly, away aft, I heard shouting, and then on the deck overhead, came the loud thudding of some one pomping with a capstan-bar. Straightway, I turned and made a run for the port doorway, along with the four other men. We rushed out through the doorway on to the deck. It was getting dusk; but that did not hide from me a terrible and extraordinary sight. All along the port rail there was a queer, undulating greyness, that moved downwards inboard, and spread over the decks. As I looked, I found that I saw more clearly, in a most extraordinary way. And, suddenly, all the moving greyness resolved into hundreds of strange men. In the half-light, they looked unreal and impossible, as though there had come upon us the inhabitants of some fantastic dream-world. My God! I thought I was mad. They swarmed in upon us in a great wave of murderous, living shadows. From some of the men who must have been going aft for roll-call, there rose into the evening air a loud, awful shouting.
“ ‘Aloft!’ yelled someone; but, as I looked aloft, I saw that the horrible things were swarm-ing there in scores and scores.
“ ‘Jesus Christ—!’ shrieked a man’s voice, cut short, and my glance dropped from aloft, to find two of the men who had come out from the fo’cas’le with me, rolling upon the deck. They were two indistinguishable masses that writhed here and there across the planks. The brutes fairly covered them. From them, came muffled little shrieks and gasps; and there I stood, and with me were the other two men. A man darted past us into the fo’cas’le, with two grey men on his back, and I heard them kill him. The two men by me, ran suddenly across the fore hatch, and up the starboard ladder on to the fo’cas’le head. Yet, almost in the same instant, I saw several of the grey men disappear up the other ladder. From the fo’cas’le head above, I heard the two men commence to shout, and this died away into a loud scuffling. At that, I turned to see whether I could get away. I stared round, hopelessly; and then with two jumps, I was on the pigsty, and from there upon the top of the deckhouse. I threw myself flat, and waited, breathlessly.
“All at once, it seemed to me that it was darker than it had been the previous moment, and I raised my head, very cautiously. I saw that the ship was enveloped in great billows of mist, and then, not six feet from me, I made out some one lying, face downwards. It was Tammy. I felt safer now that we were hidden by the mist, and I crawled to him. He gave a quick gasp of terror when I touched him; but when he saw who it was, he started to sob like a little kid.
“ ‘Hush!’ I said. ‘For God’s sake be quiet!’ But I need not have troubled; for the shrieks of the men being killed, down on the decks all around us, drowned every other sound.
“I knelt up, and glanced round and then aloft. Overhead, I could make out dimly the spars and sails, and now as I looked, I saw that the t’gallants and royals had been unloosed and were hanging in the buntlines. Almost in the same moment, the terrible crying of the poor beggars about the decks, ceased; and there succeeded an awful silence, in which I could distinctly hear Tammy sobbing. I reached out, and shook him.
“ ‘Be quiet! Be quiet!’ I whispered, intensely. ‘they’ll hear us!’
“At my touch and whisper, he struggled to become silent; and then, overhead, I saw the six yards being swiftly mastheaded. Scarcely were the sails set, when I heard the swish and flick of gaskets being cast adrift on the lower yards, and realised that ghostly things were at work there.
“For a minute or so there was silence, and I made my way cautiously to the after end of the house, and peered over. Yet, because of the mist, I could see nothing. Then, abruptly, from behind me, came a single wail of sudden pain and terror from Tammy. It ended instantly in a sort of choke. I stood up in the mist and ran back to where I had left the kid; but he had gone. I stood dazed. I felt like shrieking out loud. Above me, I heard the flaps of the courses being tumbled off the yards. Down upon the decks, there were the noises of a multitude working in a weird, inhuman silence. Then came the squeal and rattle of blocks and braces aloft. They were squaring the yards.
“I remained standing. I watched the yards squared, and then I saw the sails fill suddenly. An instant later, the deck of the house upon which I stood, became canted forrard. The slope increased, so that I could scarcely stand, and I grabbed at one of the wire-winches. I wondered, in a stunned sort of way, what was happening. Almost directly afterwards, from the deck on the port side of the house, there came a sudden, loud, human scream; and immediately, from different parts of the decks there rose, afresh, some most horrible shouts of agony from odd men. This grew into an intense screaming that shook my heart up; and there came again a noise of desperate, brief fighting. Then a breath of cold wind seemed to play in the mist, and I could see down the slope of the deck. I looked below me, towards the bows. The jibboom was plunged right into the water, and, as I stared, the bows disappeared into the sea. The deck of the house became a wall to me, and I was swinging from the winch, which was now above my head. I watched the ocean lip over the edge of the fo’cas’le head, and rush down on to the main-deck, roaring into the empty fo’cas’le. And still all around me came the crying of the lost sailormen. I heard something strike the corner of the house above me, with a dull thud, and then I saw Plummer plunge down into the flood beneath. I remembered that he had been at the wheel. The next instant, the water had leapt to my feet; there came a drear chorus of bubbling screams, a roar of waters, and I was going swiftly down into the darkness. I let go of the winch, and struck out madly, trying to hold my breath. There was a loud singing in my ears. It grew louder. I opened my mouth. I felt I was dying. And then, thank God! I was at the surface, breathing. For the moment, I was blinded with the water, and my agony of breathlessness. Then, growing easier, I brushed the water from my eyes, and so, not three hundred yards away, I made out a large ship, floating almost motionless. At first, I could scarcely believe I saw aright. Then, as I realised that indeed there was yet a chance of living, I started to swim towards you.
“You know the rest—”
* * *
“And you think—?” said the Captain, interrogatively, and stopped short.
“No,” replied Jessop. “I don’t think, I know. None of us think. It’s a gospel fact. People talk about queer things happening at sea; but this isn’t one of them. This is one of the real things. You’ve all seen queer things; perhaps more than I have. It depends. But they don’t go down in the log. These kinds of things never do. This one won’t; at least, not as it’s really happened.”
He nodded his head, slowly, and went on, addressing the Captain more particularly.
“I’ll bet,” he said, deliberately, “that you’ll enter it in the log-book, something like this:— ‘May 18th. Lat.—S. Long.—W. 2 p.m. Light winds from the South and East. Sighted a full-rigged ship on the st
arboard bow. Overhauled her in the first dog-watch. Signalled her; but received no response. During the second dog-watch she steadily refused to communicate. About eight bells, it was observed that she seemed to be settling by the head, and a minute later she foundered suddenly, bows foremost, with all her crew. Put out a boat and picked up one of the men, an A.B. by the name of Jessop. He was quite unable to give any explanation of the catastrophe.
“And you two,” he made a gesture at the First and Second Mates, “will probably sign your names to it, and so will I, and perhaps one of your A.B.’s. Then when we get home they’ll print a report of it in the newspapers, and people will talk about unseaworthy ships. Maybe some of the experts will talk rot about rivets and defective plates and so forth.”
He laughed, cynically. Then he went on.
“And, you know, when you come to think of it, there’s no one except our own selves will ever know how it happened—really. The shellbacks don’t count. They’re only ‘beastly, drunken brutes of common sailors’—Poor devils! No one would think of taking anything they said, as anything more than a damned cuffer. Besides, the beggars only tell these things when they’re half boozed. They wouldn’t then (for fear of being laughed at), only they’re not responsible—”
He broke off, and looked round at us. The Skipper and the two Mates nodded their heads, in silent assent.
Appendix
The Silent Ship
I’m the Third Mate of the Sangier, the vessel that picked up Jessop, you know; and he’s asked us to write a short note of what we saw from our side, and sign it. The Old Man’s set me on to the job, as he says I can put it better than he can.
Well, it was in the first dog-watch that we came up with her, the Mortzestus I mean; but it was in the second dog-watch that it happened. The Mate and I were on the poop watching her. You see, we’d signalled her, and she’d not taken any notice, and that seemed queer, as we couldn’t have been more than three or four hundred yards off her port beam, and it was a fine evening; so that we could almost have had a tea-fight, if they’d seemed a pleasant crowd. As it was, we called them a set of sulky swine, and left it at that, though we still kept our hoist up. All the same, you know, we watched her a lot; and I remember, even then I thought it queer how quiet she was. We couldn’t hear even her bell go, and I spoke to the Mate about it, and he said he’d been noticing the same thing.
Then, about six bells, they shortened her right down to top-sails; and I can tell you that made us stare more than ever, as any one can imagine. And I remember we noticed then, especially, that we couldn’t hear a single sound from her, even when the haulyards were let go; and, you know, without the glass, I saw their Old Man singing out something; but we didn’t get a sound of it, and we should have been able to hear every word.
Then, just after eight bells, the thing Jessop’s told us about, happened. Both the Mate and the Old Man said they could see men going up her side, a bit indistinct, you know, because it was getting dusk; but the Second Mate and I half thought we did, and half thought we didn’t; but there was something queer; we all knew that; and it looked like a sort of movey mist along her side. I know I felt pretty funny; but it wasn’t the sort of thing, of course, to be too sure and serious about until you were sure.
After the Mate and the Captain had said they saw the men boarding her, we began to hear sounds from her; very queer at first, and rather like a phonograph makes when it’s getting up speed. Then the sounds came properly from her, and we heard them shouting and yelling; and, you know, I don’t know even now just what I really thought. I was all so queer and mixed.
The next thing I remember, there was a thick mist round the ship; and then all the noise was shut off, as if it were all the other side of a door. But we could still see her masts and spars and sails above the misty stuff; and both the Captain and the Mate said they could see men aloft; and I thought I could; but the Second Mate wasn’t sure. All the same, though, the sails were all loosed in about a minute, it seemed, and the yards mastheaded. We couldn’t see the courses above the mist; but Jessop says they were loosed too, and sheeted home, along with the upper sails. Then we saw the yards squared, and I saw the sails fill bang up with; and yet, you know, ours were slatting.
The next thing was the one that hit me more than anything. Her masts took a cant forrard, and then I saw her stern come up out of the mist that was round her. Then all in an instant, we could hear sounds from the vessel again. And I tell you, the men didn’t seem to be shouting, but screaming. Her stern went higher. It was most extraordinary to look at; and then she went plunk down, head foremost, right bang into the mist-stuff.
It’s all right what Jessop says, and when we saw him swimming (I was the one who spotted him) we got out a boat quicker than a wind-jammer ever got out a boat before, I should think.
The Captain and the Mate and the Second and I are all going to sign this.
(Signed) william nawston, Master.
j. e. g. adams, First Mate.
ed. brown, Second Mate.
jack t. evan, Third Mate.
The Silent Ship
It was in the second dog-watch. We were in the Southern Pacific, just within the tropics. Away on our starboard beam, distant some three or four hundred yards, a large ship was sliding slowly along in the same direction as ourselves. We had come up with her during the previous watch; but, the wind failing, our speed had dropped, and we were doing no more than keeping abreast of her.
The mate and I were watching her curiously; for, to all our signals, she had paid not the slightest heed. Not even a face had peered over her rail in our direction; though (save once or twice, when a curious thin haze had seemed to float up from the sea between the two ships) we were plainly able to see the officer of the watch pacing the poop, and the men lounging about her decks. Stranger than this was our inability to catch any sound from her—not even an occasional order, nor the stroke of the bells.
“Sulky beasts!” said the Mate expressively. “A lot of blasted uncivil Dutchmen!”
He stood for a couple of minutes and eyed them in silence. He was very much annoyed at their persistent disregard of our signals; yet I think that, like myself, he was even more curious to know the reason of it: and his very bafflement on this point only served to increase his irritability.
He turned to me.
“Pass out that trumpet, Mr. Jepworth,” he added. “We’ll see if they’ve the manners to notice that.”
Going to the companion-way, I unslung the speaking trumpet out of its becketts and brought it to him.
Taking it quickly, he raised it to his lips, and sent a loud “Ship ahoy!” across the water to the stranger. He waited a few moments; but no sign could I see to show that he had been heard.
“Blast them!” I heard him mutter. Then he lifted the trumpet again. This time he hailed the other craft by name, it being plainly visible on the bow— “Mortzestus ahoy!”
Again he waited. Still there was no sign to show that they had either seen or heard us.
The Mate lifted the trumpet and shook it towards the strange vessel.
“The devil fly away with you!” he shouted. He turned to me.
“Here, take this back again, Mr. Jepworth,” he growled. “If ever I came across a lot of petticoated skunks, it’s them. Making a fool of a man like that!”
From all of which it will be conceived that we had become vastly interested in the strange ship.
For the space of perhaps another hour, we continued to view her at intervals through our glasses; but failed to discover that they had become even aware of our presence.
Then, as we watched her, there appeared suddenly a great show of activity aboard of her. The three royals were lowered almost simultaneously, and in a minute the t’gallens’ls followed them. Then we saw the men jump into the rigging and aloft to furl.
The Mate spoke.
“I’m damned if they’re not going to shorten her down. What the devil’s the matter with them�
��”
He stopped short as though a sudden idea had come to him.
“Run below,” he said, without removing his scrutiny from the other packet, “and take a look at the glass.”
Without wasting time, I hurried below, returning in a minute to tell him that the glass was perfectly steady.
He made no reply to my information, but continued to stare across the water at the stranger.
Abruptly, he spoke.
“Look here, Mr. Jepworth, I’m just beggared, that’s what I am. I can’t make head nor tail of it. I’ve never seen the likes of it all the time I’ve been fishing.”
“Looks to me as though their skipper was a bit of an old woman,” I remarked. “Perhaps—”
The Mate interrupted me.
“Lord!” he said impiously. “And now they’re taking the courses off her. Their Old Man must be a fool.”
He had spoken rather loudly, and in the momentary silence that followed his words, I was startled to hear a voice at my elbow say—
“Whose Old Man is a fool?”
It was our Old Man who had come on deck unobserved.
Without waiting for a reply to his query, he inquired if the other packet had deigned to notice our signals yet.
“No, Sir,” the Mate made answer. “We might be a lump of dirt floating about, for all the notice they’ve taken of us.”
“They’ve shortened her down to top-sails, Sir,” I said to the Captain, and I proffered him my glasses.
The Ghost Pirates and Other Revenants of the Sea Page 16
