“Well, Sir, I went past that window again that evening, but the watch weren’t put on sale again; never then or any other time.
“An’ then I thought, after I signed on my new ship, an’ drew my advance, I’d go in an’ see if the store man’d rise to an offer. I bought a new fit-out of togs, so as to look like I had plenty cash; then in I goes.
“ ‘I’ve come in for that there watch I looked at a bit back,’ I says, as easy as I could.
“He looks me up an’ down with a puzzled look, then he remembers me.
“ ‘You!’ he said; an’ I could ’a’ sworn he’d got a fright. ‘Oh, I remember, he goes on. ‘We sold the watch awhile back. No, Mister, I don’ know the bloke as got it. Sorry,’ he says. ‘Mornin’.’ And out I had to come.
“Now, Sir, if that ain’t proof, what is?”
“You needn’t try to prove things to me, my lad,” I said. “I know; but them yarns takes a hell of a lot of proving before any one ashore’ll ever take ’em for anythin’ more than a sailor’s yarn. You keep your eyes skinned tonight, and watch the sea for boats, particular. An’ keep your ears open. You ain’t going to hear much tonight; for there’s a small breeze, but you might chance to hear oars. They carry a long way over water.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” he said; and I ran down onto the main-deck, where they were beginning to lift the fore hatch.
IV
There was a deal of stuff to shift before we got down to the piping. There was wire netting of all sizes, by the five hundred and thousand yards, in mighty great rolls, that made the men sweat at the winch to hoist out. Not heavy stuff for its bulk, but heavy enough, and clumsy. And then, at last, we come down to the pipes, and in a minute I saw what I wanted—a pipe elbow-joint couplin’.
I was just pointing which piece I wanted hoisted out, when Knowles sings out, quick an’ quiet from the fo’cas’le head:
“They’m comin’, Sir! I c’n see four boats in the water, betwixt us an’ the whaler.”
That looked like my suspicions was right, and I jumped to the rail and took my night glasses from my jacket pocket.
“About a point forrard of the beam, Sir,” said Knowles. And then I got them, full in the fuzzy gray night field of the glasses. Four boats there were, right enough—dim, vague sort of things they looked out there in the dark, at that distance; but they were boats, I had no doubt, and I didn’t doubt, either, what they was coming for.
“They’m a mile away yet, an’ more,” I said to Knowles. “Keep your eye on ’em, an’ never lose ’em.”
I whipped across to the hatch.
“Knock off, there,” I said quietly. “Come up out of the hold, you that’s down there. There’s a matter of three or four boats comin’ across to pay us a visit, unexpected, as you might say. I guess they think we ain’t up to their little ways.
“What they’re coming for won’t be no good to you nor me, men; an’ they ain’t coming aboard here, not while we can stop ’em. If once they does, I guess there’s none of us’ll draw another pay day.
“One of you bounce out the other watch—smart! Now, then, grab one of these rolls of netting. Rip off the cover. Get the stops off it, and run it along the rail, fore and aft, outside the rigging.”
I heard Aymes running forrard. “Four boats, Sir,” he said, trying to whisper it, so as the men shouldn’t hear. “They’m between us an’ the whaler, about a mile away.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Knowles has just reported. Away aft with you, Mister, an’ call the Mate and the Third. Tell ’em I want you-all, at once. Roust the Steward out and the cook and carpenter while you’re on the job. If you’ve any shooting gear in your sea-chests, you’d better dig it out as smart as you can. Shift, now!”
“Very good, Sir,” he said, and was away at a run; and before he was into the cabin I had the other watch and the rest of the Stokers chasing out of the fo’cas’le.
“Another coil, this side, lads,” I sung out. “I’ll have the nettin’ doubled. We’ll give ’em something to dig through. Open two on the starboard side, now. Get moving, there. Pass up them coils of wire rope! Andrew and McCebe, take an end each on this side, outside of everything, and stretch it fore and aft. Jones and Taylor do the same to starboard. Stop it up to the fo’cas’le head, an’ the rigging, bridge stanchions, awning stanchions, and the crutch for the after derrick. Move them!—Bo’sun, that you? Good! Get then out some wire for seizings, and pass it round smart.”
Believe me, inside of ten minutes that netting was stretched fore and aft, and the upper edge stopped to the wire rope I’d had set up, while the bottom edge they was wiring down, for all they was worth, to the bulwark stanchions, so that there was a wire netting now fore and aft, right round the slip.
The First Mate, Second, and Third was with me long before this; and good men all three, not to mention the Bo’sun, who was a man I’ve carried these thirteen years. A right clever sailorman, an’ mighty good to run men.
I kept the Second Mate and Knowles watching the boats, but they was still near half a mile off, so far as we could judge, which showed they was coming slow, thinkin’ we’d not spotted ’em.
The three Mates had revolvers, good, healthy-sized small cannon they was, too; and I’d my two Colt revolvers in my pockets, and that was all the weapons there was in the ship.
“Damn the authorities!” said the Mate. “Why the hell ain’t it law as every ship should have to be properly armed before she goes to sea!”
“Damn ’em, by all means!” I said. “But we ain’t beat. Pass up some of them bundles of sharp iron garden railin’s— Look at that now, Mister! A bit fancy, but as good to kill a man as if that’s what they was made for. An’ they’ll go through the mesh of the wire netting easy. I wouldn’t fancy a prod in the face with one of them!
“Have the men shove all them other rolls of wire on their ends, along under the rails. The bulwarks is steel, but I doubt if they’ll stop a high-power nickel rifle bullet. Not as they’ll try shooting, at first; that ain’t their little way. And see as all the water doors is fast shut, top an’ bottom flaps.”
I went up onto the bridge, and had a look for the boats. They was still a goodish way off in the night, and I guessed they were lyin’ on their oars. watchin’ us quietly.
I came down and had a word with the Mate.
“They’m out there, Mister,” I told him; “maybe six or seven hundred yards off, lying on their oars. I’ve a notion they’re waitin’ for us to quiet down. I guess they think we got all hands working double watches on this breakdown. Let ’em go on thinking that, and keep the lamps burning bright about the decks, until they get tired of waitin. The longer they wait, the better I’m pleased, for then it’s the nearer to daylight, an’ then, maybe, they’ll think better of it, an’ draw off before they think we’ve seen ’em. You see, them as messes with the Bad Business aims always to surprise a ship, and never to be seen or known; for, if a dozen shipmasters came in, all with yarns of seeing vessels attacked, the authorities’d have to move; an’ there’d be a slump to their dirty trade of knifing, robbing, an sinking’unarmed sailormen.
“But mind, the moment them boats starts to move in on us, douse the lights; for we don’t want to be fancy-illuminated targets for them to pot at comfortably out of the darkness. Station the men right round the decks, a couple or three fathoms apart, according to how they pan out, an’ explain to them to keep down, out of sight. All they got to do is to jab them fancy garden spikes through the meshes at anyone as tries to come aboard. All clear, that?”
“Yes, Sir,” he said.
“I’ll take two of the handiest men down with me,” I went on. “I’m going into the engine room to see if I can’t get yon bu’st steam pipe fixed up. Tell Marti and Telboy to pick up yon piping elbow, and bring it down. The sooner the pipe’s fixed, the better, and then we can get the fires lit again an’ get of this. The minute them boats begin to come in, mind you, out with them lights, an’ report to me.”
> V
“We’ll have to saw the blessed elbow in halves, lengthwise,” I told the two men, after they’d tried to fit the burst part of the steam pipe into it. “Get one of them big twenty-inch hacksaws and start up. Come on, lads, it’s got to be done!”
For just half an hour by my watch we worked there; me itching to grab the saw from ’em an’ show how it should be done; but my hands was too sore, an’ all parcelled up by the Steward, except the two trigger fingers, that I’d worked loose for my Colts. All the same, the iron of the pipe cut pretty easy, for it was soft stuff, an’ though the men had broke two of the saw blades, I guessed there was enough spares to see us through.
And then I heard the Mate’s voice, up at the fiddley, whispering down to me.
“Cap’n!” he was saying.”Cap’n, they’m coming!”
“Right,” I said. “See the lamps is all out, and go round, and steady the men. Make sure they understand they ain’t to show themselves, but just jab through the netting at anyone as tries to come up over the rail. I’m coming right now.”
I brought my two putty engineers up with me, and sent them forrard, to take their places along the bulwarks with the others. I went up then onto the bridge, and found the Third Mate there, watching.
“Over there, Sir, just a point foreside the beam,” he whispered to me; pointing out into the dark; and I took a good look through my night glasses. The boats were about three hundred yards away, as I guessed, and coming in very quiet and slow and cautious on us. It made me just tingle to see them human sharks coming in on us so sly and silent. I slipped my right fist down into my jacket pocket, an’ felt the heavy revolver that was there, with the second in the left pocket, ready for when it was needed. It gave me a good feelin’ to touch the gun; and then I got a fresh notion; and turned to the Third Mate.
“Down, smart, now, Mister, into the lamp room, and pass out a couple of flares,” I said. “See there’s paraffin in the tins. Take them onto the main-deck, and, when I give you the word, light them, and see if you can’t just heave ’em slam into the boats. They’ll give us a chance to see to pot the devils. Tell the First and Second to be ready with their guns from poop an’ fo’cas’le head. Tell ’em not to shoot till you’ve hove out the flares.”
After the Third had gone, I watched the boats creeping slowly up to us, till at last they was not more than a hundred yards away. Then I slipped my glasses into my left hand, and reached for one of the big Colts, with my right.
The boats moved in noiselessly on us, and I could tell they’d got stuff parcelled round the oars and rollocks, so as they’d make no noise.
I scarce breathed, and I guess hardly one of us in the ship was breathing just then. I never heard a sound nor a whisper fore and aft. We might have been a ship full of sleepin’ men.
And then, like a lot of damned evil kind of shadders, the four boats came drifting silent alongside. There was never a word spoke in all the boats—I reckon they knew their own ugly business too well—not a word; an’ then, very gentle, I heard a little scraping noise along the bulwarks. I guessed they was trying to hook some kind of ladder fixings in over our rail.
By what I was able to see in the dark, the four boats was all along the one side—the port side. I never moved from where I was hid by the weather-cloth dodger, that was lashed up in the forrard angle of the bridge end.
The breeze had dropped now, and there was only a little bit of a damp wind blowing, with no sea at all, so that the night was just grown mighty quiet, and I was able to hear anything.
I knew the Mate and Second would be ready, but I meant to give them devils in the boats the best surprise I could; so I held back from telling the Third to light up and throw the flares over the netting into the boats.
I just harked, for all as I could hark, and I could see dimly, as well. There was men coming, slow an’ foxy as big cats, up the side of the ship; and by that I knew they’d got their ladders hooked proper in over our rail. I looks forrard and aft, and I guess each boat must have hooked on two or three ladders; for them dark, crawling lumps was thick on the ship’s side, fore and aft.
An’ then came a yell from away forrard; an’ the same moment a screech from near by, forrard of the bridge, an’ then a man screaming somewhere away aft. An’ then the thuds of bodies falling into the boats. An’ I guess I knew the garden railings was provin’ pretty good prodders, like I’d reckoned they would.
“Heave the flares, Mister!” I roared out, in a voice you could have heard a mile away that calm night. “Heave the flares, an’ we’ll send these devils back home! Heave!”
My word, but the Third was a smart lad! He’d been standin’ down under the bridge, with a great clump of lucifers in one fist and a flare in the other, and, before I’d done singing out, he’d lit the first, an’ then the second from the first, an’ then one of the flares went sailin’ up over the netting, and down, bang, into a boat forrard of me; and the second flare he chucked away aft, and it dropped in a boat, too; and such a sight I never saw; for the whole of the starboard side was lit up fore and aft with two great paraffin flares; and, sure enough, there was the four boats, ranged head and stern all along the side, an’ a dozen ladders hooked up to our port rail, and men thick on the ladders.
Aft in a flash I saw it, as I leaned outboard over the netting; for the bridge end came over the top of it, and I could see clear. Three of the ladders was empty; an’ men a-wriggle, all bloody, as I could see, in the boats under the empty ladders; and then I’d fetched out my second Colt, an’ was shooting quick an’ steady, right an’ left, left an’ right; for I reckon I can shoot with a pocket gun. An’ every time I fired a man flopped off one of the ladders, thump into the boat under him. An’ forrard an’ aft, the First and the Second was shootin’ from the fo’cas’le head and our bit of a poop-deck, aft. An’ all this in a matter of ten to fifteen seconds, not a second more; an’ a good twenty men of ’em, what the papers call hors de combat, down there in the boats, an not one of us touched. Never did I see nothing better managed.
But it couldn’t last more’n a few seconds, as you can think; for the boats was big, an’ full of men. I guess there was a cool hundred in the four boats, an’ armed to kill; and before I’d done more than empty my Colts clean out, some one had dumped the flares out into the sea, an’ they was shooting back, and the air full of bullets in a moment.
I chucked myself flat on the bridge, an’ loaded my two Colts as quick as I could, with my damaged hands. The shootin’ was growin’ stronger than ever, and I knew I should have been full up with bullets if I’d so much as stuck my head over the rail to take a pot into the boats.
As it was, the canvas dodger I’d been behind was all shot to bits, as I could see, even in the dark, and I could feel odd bits drop on me where I was. The bullets kept hitting the iron stanchion of the bridge, and buzzing off like loopy wasps out over the sea to starboard.
I saw as I could do nothin’, stuck up there alone, not daring to show my head; I slid away to leeward, as you might all it, and made one jump down onto the top of my chart-house, and then to the deck.
The shooting made a devil of a row, an’ I could hear scarce a thing else; but I went right along the main-deck, fore and aft, an’ found the men all as ready as might be, with their garden railings, but never a head coming above the rail to poke at.
The Mate was forrard, lying on his chest on the fo’casle head, seeing as no heads come up over the bow part. You see, as soon as a head came above the rail, it was plain to pot, against the night sky, in spite of the dark.
Away aft, I found the Second Mate, flat on the poop. He’d been touched twice with bullets, but only grazers, nothin’ to bother about. And he was takin’ care of himself now, and just giving them no more chances.
All the while they was shootin’ fifteen to the dozen, and yet never no attempt to attack again; and sudden I tumbled to what it might mean.
I made one run to the starboard side—just in the shadow of the bridg
e, I was—and then I saw what they was up to. They’d sent two of the boats round from the port side, as quiet as two blessed sharks, and they was haulin’ theirselves along the starboard quarter to get amidships, and then to hook on their ladders, and get up quiet an’ cut holes in the netting, an’ get aboard in the din the others was makin’ to port. And then I guess our throats would all have been cut while you could wink twice.
You see, with all that shootin’ going on along the port side, we’d not been able to look over without the chance of getting our heads shot to bits, an’ so we’d never spotted their plan. It was a good dodge, too.
I slipped across to port like a live shadder, and this man an’ that man I picks out, as quiet as you like, an’ sends ’em over to starboard, so that I’d got ’em pretty equal divided on both sides the ship in less than the waggle of a duck’s stern. Then I looks for the Third, but he’d vanished.
“Where the blazes is yon Third Mate?” I sings out.
“Here, Sir,” he said, close to me, coming out of the Bo’sun’s locker. “I got a notion, Sir, we wants more lights in them boats,” he goes on. “I’ve a armful of oakum balls here, an’ I’ve soaked ’em with paraffin. I’m going to light ’em, an’ sling ’em into the boats, so we can see to shoot again.”
“Good for you, Mister!” I said; an’ felt the soppin’ things in his arms. “The devils have sent two of the boats round to starboard, an’ they’m goin’ to try to get us in the small of the back, as you might say, while we’re admirin’ their gun music to port. Now, as soon as I sings out to you, light up an’ heave ’em over to starboard. Run first an’ warn the two Mates to be ready on the starboard side. We’ll get the hogs again, like we surprised ’em to port, an’ maybe we’ll drop a round dozen before they wake up enough to start shootin’.”
The Ghost Pirates and Other Revenants of the Sea Page 40
