There was a roar of laughter at this plan, and after discussing it awhile, they agreed to carry it out, especially as the Second Mate was sitting sleeping on a hencoop close by the log-reel, and it would therefore be quite possible for him to be entangled with the line, without his being able to prove that it had been done purposely.
Seven bells are struck, and word is passed round to the watch on deck as to what is going forward, with the result that when one bell goes (at a quarter to twelve), and the trio go onto the poop to carry their scheme into operation, there is quite an audience to view the fun.
Very quietly and gingerly the three conspirators steal aft to their stations. Bell slips the log-reel noiselessly from its becketts; Erntuck gets the glass and stands silently by; while Jute gathers up a coil of slack line in his hand. Then he glances round; by the light of the binnacle lamp he sees that the Helmsman wears a broad grin, shewing he had a good inkling of what is going on. While from farther for’rard he can distinctly hear murmurs of amusement from the rest of the watch gathered there. Up till now he has been rather afraid of playing a trick on the Second: but at the sound of the men’s smothered laughter, his fear quickly vanishes, and with a half-smile, he takes a couple of loose turns round the Second Mate’s neck, and throws the bag overboard, then when the “white rag” flashes past him, shouts: “Turn!” The shout rouses the officer instantly, and he jumps as if he had been shot. Turning to Jute he roars: “What the devil do you mean by making that noi—”
At that instant the slack line tightens round his neck with a tremendous jerk, bringing his head in violent contact with the taffrail. From the group of men for’rard a subdued guffaw of irrepressible laughter breaks forth, in which the three apprentices are unable to resist joining. All has happened in the space of a few seconds: and Jute, stooping down, with a quick turn of the wrist, disengages the line from around Mr. Johnson’s neck; when to his astonishment, instead of turning round, and giving vent to bad language, the man drops all in a heap on the deck. Jute seizes one of the binnacle lamps and throws the light on the man at his feet then gives a shout of horror to see his head partly twisted round in an unnatural manner. A hurried examination shews that the sudden jerk must have broken his neck, and the Second Mate is dead.
The Sharks of the St. Elmo
It’s as strange a place today as it was a thousand years ago,” said Captain Dang, nodding his head out to sea where many vessels rode at anchor and busy tugs churned up the waves into flying foam. “And in a million years it’ll be just the same,” he added. “Just the same. It can be found out.”
He was an extraordinary man, was Captain Dang. I had run into him quite by chance on the harbour pier. Years ago I had been a very youthful Second Mate of his and as such had known him for a perfect gentleman, a good master and the possessor of an unlimited vocabulary of Scotch, Irish and Americanism. Ashore he was the most reserved of men—stern, faultlessly dressed and speaking perfect English. At sea he rolled fore and aft, dressed in rough pilot-cloth, bellowed with laughter, chewed plug tobacco with an almost indelicate zest, and—culminating atrocity—wore lavender kid gloves!
To find him in a talkative mood ashore was something fresh, and knowing something of his adventurous past and with time to waste till joining my ship, I waited for the yarn I knew would be coming.
“It’s as much a mystery today as ever,” he said, “and no one knows better than me. Mystery on the waters and below. I remember when I was in the old St. Elmo—steam and sail she was—trading between ’Frisco and the Teapot—that’s China—I came across a mighty curious thing. We left ’Frisco early Tuesday morning, and by eight bells Wednesday afternoon we were losing our steam for some monkey reason or other, and scarcely doing more than three knots. What little wind we had was right ahead, and so we’d a harbour furl on everything so as to offer no more resistance than possible.
Captain Dang spat into the blue waters of the bay. “If I can tell you, lad, it’s the devil’s own job to sail in one of these auxiliaries.
“Three knots was about our wind mark all the first dog-watch, and then it dropped to two, and the sea did likewise. It was like a great, smooth lake. Smooth-heave, smooth-heave, and our speed at two knots.
“And then we saw the sharks. One of the lads spotted them first and let out a yell fit to wake the dead.
“ ‘Sharks! Millions of ’em!’ he yelled, and jumped onto the pin-rail to get a better look, followed by the rest of us.
“I tell you, lad, it wasn’t only a strange sight, it was a downright dreadful sight. There seemed to be thousands and tens of thousands of sharks following the vessel, strung out on each side of the wake as far as you could see. And they weren’t only astern, mind you, but away out on the beam as far as I could see; and some of the brutes right in alongside, swimming easy with a gentle wriggle of their tails to keep ’em going just our speed.
“I saw this much from the starboard rail, and then I went across to port to have a look that side. It was the same there. You could see them just under the water, and now and then their backfins and sometimes the whole of their ugly backs coming right out of the water into sight, and then under again. What got me the most was the way some of them kept hugging close up against the side of the ship so that you could spit on the water over ’em, and watch the brutes look up at you as knowing as devils.
“I reckon our speed had dropped to almost a knot and a half an hour by this, and the blaspheming engineers sweating and tinkering below. The poor Greasers had been at it all that blessed night for the engines developed new complaints mostly every hour.
“I was Bo’sun at the time and soon knew I was in for a picnic as both old Cap’n Moss and the First Mate, Mr. Nathaniel, were drinking. They’d been as drunk as lords ever since we cleared the Golden Gates, and a jolly good thing for us that Mr. Jackson, the Second, was a sober little man—a little envious, discontented rat of a man, but sober for all that.
“Well, by the end of the second dog-watch,” continued Captain Dang, having paused a moment to bite an immense chew out of a plug of tobacco, “there wasn’t any more wind than you could put in your hat, and that isn’t a lot, I’m thinking. Consequent, the sea was just like glass except for a bit of a slow heave that went under it, and there, away on each side of us, I could see the sharks breaking the water gently with their backs in ten thousand different places at once. It was strange to stand and watch the night come down on all that, and to think what it would mean if there was any going aloft! You just try to imagine what it would be like to go out on one of the yards above all that lot of hungry fish—keep your mind on it a moment, lad, it’ll do you good!
“And away after the Old Man and the Mate were sitting straddle of the saloon skylight, drunker than ever, and singing “Ben Bowline” worse than any gramophone.
“I wasn’t taking any watches being Bo’sun, but I kept on deck all the first watch, being unable to sleep anyway. I had an uneasy feeling which the men had too, for I heard them talking superstition and death, and chattering by the fathom on the decks.
“Many a time that watch I went to the side and took a look over. Once I lit a bull’s-eye lantern we used for clearing up the ropes at night and shone it down over the side. Some of the men saw what I was doing and ran to have a look. There, right under the light, was the head and eyes of the biggest shark I’d ever seen. Snugged right up against the side of the ship he was, just squirming his tail as gently as a lady’s fan so as to give him way through the water the same speed as we were moving. And he looked up at the lantern as knowing and devilish as you please. I tell you, lad, there was the intelligence of a man or a monster in that great brute. I could see knowledge in his eye. It’s a queer thing to say, but it’s true. One of the men called out: ‘He’s looking at us, lads, he knows as much as we do,’ and I guess he was right, only the beggar knew a good deal more in some strange fashion, and you’ll agree with me when I’m done telling you.
“When I shunted the beam of ligh
t out a bit from the ship’s side, we could see a string of sharks hefty enough to make sausage-meat of any man living. Everywhere we shone the light we could see the black-looking fins and backs of thousands and thousands moving here and moving there, all coming after the ship. You never saw such a sight.
“Then Mr. Jackson got singing out to know what the devil we were doing with that light, so I dowsed it, but I didn’t feel like turning in. It was all so rummy. I shall always say there was something queer about that night.
“When the boy called me in the morning, I asked him if the sharks had gone.
“ ‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s worse than ever—more of ’em. And,’ he added, ‘the engines have broken down proper an’ we’re stuck in a dead calm!’
“Well, I cut out on deck then in my drawers to have a look for myself. There wasn’t a breath of wind, and both the sea and the sky had a bit of a leaden look. The sea was just as smooth as glass except round about the ship. You never saw anything like it. It was just alive with sharks.
“I got up onto the spar top-sail and looked over the port rail. The sharks were packed so close about the ship you couldn’t see blue water between them. I could hear the ship rub against ’em when she rolled a little. There they lay wonderfully quiet, close in to us. Just a bit of a wriggle this way or that, and from time to time one of the brutes would shove his great head clean up out of the water across the back of another and lie like that for five minutes or so, as if he was staring up at us.
“Further out the beggars weren’t so thick, but they were swimming around. You could see their fins and backs showing right up out of the water at times, and once we saw a fight amongst them. The sea frothed and boiled for a few seconds. I guess if any were killed they just got eaten up as quick as you could wink.
“The silly Mate tried to harpoon some of the brutes and got a fright for his pains. He comes up, as drunk as you please, at seven bells, sees the sharks and starts rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Then he sends a boy for the harpoon out of the lamp-locker, and when he’d got it bent onto a bit of ratling-line he lets fly. Well, you never saw such a fuss. It was like hell waked up suddenly. The shark that was struck with the iron did the flip-flap, of course, and every shark near him made a mighty rush at him so that they all piled up into one great wriggling heap, clean above the sea level for a moment. Lashing, biting, you couldn’t see a yard in front of you for the clouds of water and foam and blood that was thrown everywhere, all in a moment. When it quieted down, there wasn’t any harpoon or ratling-line or shark either. I guess after that the Mate was just as well pleased to let ’em alone. The fight among themselves made us all feel they’d be aboard by their thousands if we didn’t leave them alone. And you know, lad, she wasn’t a big packet, the St. Elmo, and she hadn’t all that much freeboard. Oh, it was pretty easy to get imagining things with all that lot of devils lying round us.
“It was a queer, uncomfortable day that followed. The men had all got it into their heads that there was a Jonah aboard—funny creatures sailors are! And the Engineers crowd was nearly as bad. They’d taken the engine room skylight and lifted it clean off, and all the starboard side of the deck littered with their steam gadgets. I asked them if they were making a new engine but only got cursed for my cheek. Poor devils, the Chief had kept them hard at it till they were dead beat.
“The Old Man came up about five bells in the forenoon watch with a bottle of whisky in his fist and a big pint mug. He goes to the side and looks down, very solemn.
“ ‘Have you seen ’em, Mister Nathaniel?’ I heard him asking the Mate after he’s looked awhile.
“ ‘Yes, Sir,’ replied the Mate.
“ ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve got ’em too, Mister,’ said the Captain gravely. And with that he filled his mug with whisky and drank it off neat. He was a rum old stick.
“Things went on like that for three days. No wind, no steam, no nothing. Only the sharks and the bad talk from the Engineers little crowd. Forrard in the fo’cas’le the men would scarcely speak to one another. Each one suspected the other of being a Jonah. I tell you, I’m not joking. When men of that level of intelligence get a superstitious idea into their heads it may mean downright murder. I know for a fact that if any one of you had got named outright for a Jonah causing all our trouble he’d have been put overboard as sure as nuts after dark. Oh, yes he would, and that was why I was knocking about at night and keeping an eye on the men in case they got up to some mad wickedness with the funk they’d got.
“In the afternoon watch on the third day we got a light bit of a breeze astern, and the Mate sings out for the watch to loose sail. At first some of them hung back, not liking to go out on the yearyards above all those brutes in the sea; but I saw it had to be done, so I gave them a lead and we got the job done. Nasty work it was too, looking down on those thousands and thousands of waiting brutes right under our feet when we were out on the yards. How you like it, lad?
“We got the sail on her, and the old packet began to move through the water, perhaps a couple of knots an hour. And mighty strange it was to see those close-packed sharks begin to get a move on too, wriggling their tails and bodies so as to just keep speed with the ship, all of them as if they were tied to her by invisible strings. It was a queer sight and gave me a queer feeling.
“All that week it was the same, sometimes the wind shunted us along a couple of knots an hour, or less, and sometimes it dropped to a dead calm. The men were getting that nervous we could hardly get ’em off the decks at night to go aloft.
“Twice during that week the Engineers got the engines running, but they came to a stop again each time in less than an hour, and there was the whole bag of Greasers up to their necks again, doing their fancy repairs. That old packet wasn’t in a fit state to leave port, and that’s the truth of it.
“And so things went along. The second week might have been seven years instead of seven days, and all the time the Skipper and the Mate on the drink, and the little Second Mate looking more and more discontent, as if he wanted to take a bite out of someone, and small blame to him.
“At night I used to go out and listen at the rail, and I tell you lad, it was mighty queer to hear the sharks rubbing their hides against the skin of the ship. I got to fancying things at last, same as the men, only worse because, you see, I knew more. I grew to thinking there was something in the air at night—all manner of queer thoughts—that something was trying to entice me to go over the side—into the sea. You’d understand fast enough if you’d been there. It seemed to me the very air about the ship was tainted—as if it smelt of shark. It’s hard to explain—and then to shine the lantern down at night and see some of those great brutes looking up at you, waiting, sort of cunning, and their eyes as intelligent as the eyes of a bad man. No wonder I got fancies!
“One of the men, Jellott, must have had them too, for one night I woke about three bells in the middle watch. There was a devil of a hullabaloo, men shouting and the noise of churning water close to the ship. I came running out and saw a lot of men on the port side away in the darkness. They were all shouting and some of them were running about the deck as if they’d gone mad. But what took me most was that awful noise of water outside the ship, as if the sea was boiling. And in a moment I guessed what it was.
“Catching hold of the first man I could, I shook him.
“ ‘It’s Jellott, Bo’sun,’ he stuttered. ‘At least we think it is.’
“That was all, but it was enough. The noise outside the ship quietened pretty quickly, but all the men could tell me was that Jellott had sung out something, and then they’d heard the noise of the sharks fighting. Anyway, the Second who’d come along called the roll and there was no Jellott, sure enough. We got the bull’s-eye then and shone the light out over the seas. It was as calm as glass, with the sharks packed close up round the ship the same as ever, looking up quiet and knowing at the light. But no one saw anything of Jellott. And we didn’t put out a boat, neither, my lad!
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“Now, away aft, things were getting into a pretty pickle. The little Second Mate was the only one that kept any sort of a watch, for the Skipper and the Mate were rarely sober, and when they were sober they were not fit to live with, what with bully-ragging all hands and scrapping up on the poop between themselves. Oh yes, there’s queer doings at sea, though they do say nothing ever happens on the liners.
“The third week passed without a breath of wind, the sails just hanging in the ropes, and none of them furled as they might have been to save chafing, for the simple reason that not a man alive would leave the decks. I tell you, there was a mighty funk on our chests.
“On the Friday of the third week, the Mate and the Skipper drank themselves speechless, and the Steward had to take them in hand. The Second sent for me, and together we lashed the two of them in their bunks, and they’d both have been better if we’d done it earlier.
“ ‘You’ll have to take the Mate’s watch, Bo’sun,’ said the Second when we’d finished tying those two loonies up.
“ ‘Very good, Sir,’ I replied. ‘I’ve got my Mate’s ticket.’
“And so I had, but he didn’t know it till then, and you should have seen him stare. You see, I’d signed on as Bo’sun being unable to get a Mate’s billet and my cash was running low.
“Well, we fixed it up that way and took watch and watch. I remember now on those dark nights I’d stand by the poop rail and listen to that beastly noise of the sharks rub-rubbing themselves against the side of the ship, and now every now and again there were splashes out in the dark where some of the brutes were swimming about and worrying the smaller ones.
The Ghost Pirates and Other Revenants of the Sea Page 63