Strange Tales of the High Seas
Page 15
More than the other was."
"But oh, look—look—look at the other!… Oh, I say, wasn't he a grand old boy! Look!"
For, transfiguring Abel Reeling's form as a prophet's form is transfigured in the instant of his rapture, flooding his brain with the white eureka-light of perfect knowledge, that for which he and his dream had been at a standstill had come. He knew her, this ship of the future, as if God's Finger had bitten her lines into his brain. He knew her as those already sinking into the grave know things, miraculously, completely, accepting Life's impossibilities with a nodded "Of course." From the ardent mouths of her eight furnaces to the last drip from her lubricators, from her bed-plates to the breeches of her quick-firers, he knew her—read her gauges, thumbed her bearings, gave the ranges from her range-finders, and lived the life he lived who was in command of her. And he would not forget on the morrow, as he had forgotten on many morrows, for at last he had seen the water about his feet, and knew that there would be no morrow for him in this world….
And even in that moment, with but a sand or two to run in his glass, indomitable, insatiable, dreaming dream on dream, he could not die until he knew more. He had two questions to ask, and a master-question; and but a moment remained. Sharply his voice rang out.
"Ho, there!… This ancient ship, the Mary of the Tower, cannot steam thirty and a quarter knots, but yet she can sail the waters. What more does your ship? Can she soar above them, as the fowls of the air soar?"
"Lord, he thinks we're an aeroplane!… No, she can't…."
"And can you dive, even as the fishes of the deep?"
"No…. Those are submarines … we aren't a submarine…."
But Abel Keeling waited for no more. He gave an exulting chuckle.
"Oho, oho—thirty knots, and but on the face of the waters—no more than that? Oho!… Now my ship, the ship I see as a mother sees full-grown the child she has but conceived—my ship, I say—oho!—my ship shall…. Below there—trip that gun!"
The cry came suddenly and alertly, as a muffled sound came from below and an ominous tremor shook the galleon.
"By Jove, her guns are breaking loose below—that's her finish—"
"Trip that gun, and double-breech the others!" Abel Keeling's voice rang out, as if there had been any to obey him. He had braced himself within the belfry frame; and then in the middle of the next order his voice suddenly failed him. His ship-shape, that for the moment he had forgotten, rode once more before his eyes. This was the end, and his master-question, apprehension for the answer to which was now torturing his face and well-nigh bursting his heart, was still unasked.
"Ho—he that spoke with me—the master," he cried in a voice that ran high, "is he there?"
"Yes, yes!" came the other voice across the water, sick with suspense. "Oh, be quick!"
There was a moment in which hoarse cries from many voices, a heavy thud and rumble on wood, and a crash of timbers and a gurgle and a splash were indescribably mingled; the gun under which Abel Keeling had lain had snapped her rotten breechings and plunged down the deck, carrying Bligh's unconscious form with it. The deck came up vertical, and for one instant longer Abel Keeling clung to the belfry.
"I cannot see your face," he screamed, "but meseems your voice is a voice I know. What is your name?"
In a torn sob the answer came across the water:
"Keeling—Abel Keeling…. Oh, my God!"
And Abel Keeling's cry of triumph, that mounted to a victorious "Huzza!" was lost in the downward plunge of the Mary of the Tower, that left the strait empty save for the sun's fiery blaze and the last smoke-like evaporation of the mists.
END
Editor’s Notes:
First published in Nash’s Magazine in February, 1910, it was most notably included in Onions’ infamous ghost story collection, Widdershins, the following year.
THE GHOST PIRATES by William Hope Hodgson (1909)
"Strange as the glimmer of the ghastly light That shines from some vast crest of wave at night."
To Mary Whalley
"Olden memories that shine against death's night—
Quiet stars of sweet enchantments,
That are seen In Life's lost distances…"
The World of Dreams
Author's Preface
This book forms the last of three. The first published was "The Boats of the 'Glen Carrig'"; the second, "The House on the Borderland;" this, the third, completes what, perhaps, may be termed a trilogy; for, though very different in scope, each of the three books deals with certain conceptions that have an elemental kinship. With this book, the author believes that he closes the door, so far as he is concerned, on a particular phase of constructive thought.
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1: The Figure Out of the Sea
Chapter II: What Tammy the ‘Prentice Saw
Chapter III: The Man up the Main
Chapter IV: The Fooling With the Sail
Chapter V: The End of Williams
Chapter VI: Another Man to the Wheel
Chapter VII: The Coming of the Mist and That Which It Ushered
Chapter VIII: After the Coming of the Mist
Chapter IX: The Man Who Cried For Help
Chapter X: Hands That Plucked
Chapter XI: The Search for Stubbins
Chapter XII: The Council
Chapter XIII: The Shadow in the Sea
Chapter XIV: The Ghost Ships
Chapter XV: The Great Ghost Ship
Chapter XVI: The Ghost Pirates
Appendix: The Silent Ship
The Hell O! O! Chaunty
Chaunty Man . . Man the capstan, bullies!
Men . . . . . . Ha!-o-o! Ha!-o-o!
Chaunty Man . . Capstan-bars, you tarry souls!
Men . . . . . . Ha!-o-o! Ha!-o-o!
Chaunty Man . . Take a turn!
Men . . . . . . Ha!-o-o!
Chaunty Man . . Stand by to fleet!
Men . . . . . . Ha!-o-o!
Chaunty Man . . Stand by to surge!
Men . . . . . . Ha!-o-o!
Chaunty Man . . Ha!—o-o-o-o!
Men . . . . . . TRAMP!
And away we go!
Chaunty Man . . Hark to the tramp of the
bearded shellbacks!
Men . . . . . . Hush!
O hear 'em tramp!
Chaunty Man . . Tramping, stamping—
treading, vamping,
While the cable
comes in ramping.
Men . . . . . . Hark!
O hear 'em stamp!
Chaunty Man . . Surge when it rides!
Surge when it rides!
Round-o-o-o
handsome as it slacks!
Men . . . . . . Ha!-o-o-o-o!
hear 'em ramp!
Ha!-oo-o-o!
hear 'em stamp!
Ha!-o-o-o-o-oo!
Ha!-o-o-o-o-o-o!
Chorus . . . . They're shouting now; oh! hear 'em
A-bellow as they stamp:—
Ha!-o-o-o! Ha!-o-o-o!
Ha!-o-o-o!
A-shouting as they tramp!
Chaunty Man . . O hark to the haunting chorus
of the capstan and the bars!
Chaunty-o-o-o
and rattle crash—
Bash against the stars!
Men . . . . . . Ha-a!-o-o-o!
Tramp and go!
Ha-a!-o-o-o!
Ha-a!-o-o-o!
Chaunty Man . . Hear the pawls a-ranting: with
the bearded men a-chaunting;
While the brazen dome above 'em
Bellows back the 'bars.'
Men . . . . . . Hear and hark!
O hear 'em!
Ha-a!-o-o!
Ha-a!-o-o!
Chaunty Man . . Hurling songs towards the
heavens—!
Men . . . . . . Ha-a!-o-o!
Ha-a!-o-o!
Chaunty Man . . Hush! O hear 'em!
Hark! O hear 'em!
Hurling oaths among their spars!
Men . . . . . . Hark! O hear 'em!
Hush! O hear 'em!
Chaunty Man . . Tramping round between the
bars!
Chorus . . . . They're shouting now; oh! hear
A-bellow as they stamp:—
Ha-a!-o-o-o! Ha-a!-o-o-o!
Ha-a!-o-o-o!
A-shouting as they tramp!
Chaunty Man . . O do you hear the
capstan-chaunty!
Thunder round the pawls!
Men . . . . . . Click a-clack,
a-clatter
Surge!
And scatter bawls!
Chaunty Man . . Click-a-clack, my bonny boys,
while it comes in handsome!
Men . . . . . . Ha-a!-o-o!
Hear 'em clack!
Chaunty Man . . Ha-a!-o-o! Click-a-clack!
Men . . . . . . Hush! O hear 'em pant!
Hark! O hear 'em rant!
Chaunty Man . . Click, a-clitter, clicker-clack.
Men . . . . . . Ha-a!-o-o!
Tramp and go!
Chaunty Man . . Surge! And keep away the slack!
Men . . . . . . Ha-a!-o-o!
Away the slack:
Ha-a!-o-o!
Click-a-clack
Chaunty Man . . Bustle now each jolly Jack.
Surging easy! Surging e-a-s-y!!
Men . . . . . . Ha-a!-o-o!
Surging easy
Chaunty Man . . Click-a-clatter—
Surge; and steady!
Man the stopper there!
All ready?
Men . . . . . . Ha-a!-o-o!
Ha-a!-o-o!
Chaunty Man . . Click-a-clack, my bouncing boys:
Men . . . . . . Ha-a!-o-o!
Tramp and go!
Chaunty Man . . Lift the pawls, and come back
easy.
Men . . . . . . Ha-a!-o-o!
Steady-o-o-o-o!
Chaunty Man . . Vast the chaunty!
Vast the capstan!
Drop the pawls! Be-l-a-y!
Chorus . . . . Ha-a!-o-o! Unship the bars!
Ha-a!-o-o! Tramp and go!
Ha-a!-o-o! Shoulder bars!
Ha-a!-o-o! And away we blow!
Ha-a!-o-o-o!
Ha-a!-o-o-o-o!
Ha-a!-o-o-o-o-o!
Chapter I - The Figure Out of the Sea
He began without any circumlocution.
I joined the Mortzestus in 'Frisco. I heard before I signed on, that there were some funny yarns floating round about her; but I was pretty nearly on the beach, and too jolly anxious to get away, to worry about trifles. Besides, by all accounts, she was right enough so far as grub and treatment went. When I asked fellows to give it a name, they generally could not. All they could tell me, was that she was unlucky, and made thundering long passages, and had no more than a fair share of dirty weather. Also, that she had twice had the sticks blown out of her, and her cargo shifted. Besides all these, a heap of other things that might happen to any packet, and would not be comfortable to run into. Still, they were the ordinary things, and I was willing enough to risk them, to get home. All the same, if I had been given the chance, I should have shipped in some other vessel as a matter of preference.
When I took my bag down, I found that they had signed on the rest of the crowd. You see, the "home lot" cleared out when they got into 'Frisco, that is, all except one young fellow, a cockney, who had stuck by the ship in port. He told me afterwards, when I got to know him, that he intended to draw a pay-day out of her, whether any one else did, or not.
The first night I was in her, I found that it was common talk among the other fellows, that there was something queer about the ship. They spoke of her as if it were an accepted fact that she was haunted; yet they all treated the matter as a joke; all, that is, except the young cockney— Williams—who, instead of laughing at their jests on the subject, seemed to take the whole matter seriously.
This made me rather curious. I began to wonder whether there was, after all, some truth underlying the vague stories I had heard; and I took the first opportunity to ask him whether he had any reasons for believing that there was anything in the yarns about the ship.
At first he was inclined to be a bit offish; but, presently, he came round, and told me that he did not know of any particular incident which could be called unusual in the sense in which I meant. Yet that, at the same time, there were lots of little things which, if you put them together, made you think a bit. For instance, she always made such long passages and had so much dirty weather—nothing but that and calms and head winds. Then, other things happened; sails that he knew, himself, had been properly stowed, were always blowing adrift at night. And then he said a thing that surprised me.
"There's too many bloomin' shadders about this 'ere packet; they gets onter yer nerves like nothin' as ever I seen before in me nat'ral."
He blurted it all out in a heap, and I turned round and looked at him.
"Too many shadows!" I said. "What on earth do you mean?" But he refused to explain himself or tell me anything further—just shook his head, stupidly, when I questioned him. He seemed to have taken a sudden, sulky fit. I felt certain that he was acting dense, purposely. I believe the truth of the matter is that he was, in a way, ashamed of having let himself go like he had, in speaking out his thoughts about "shadders." That type of man may think things at times; but he doesn't often put them into words. Anyhow, I saw it was no use asking any further questions; so I let the matter drop there. Yet, for several days afterwards, I caught myself wondering, at times, what the fellow had meant by "shadders."
We left 'Frisco next day, with a fine, fair wind, that seemed a bit like putting the stopper on the yarns I had heard about the ship's ill luck. And yet—
He hesitated a moment, and then went on again.
For the first couple of weeks out, nothing unusual happened, and the wind still held fair. I began to feel that I had been rather lucky, after all, in the packet into which I had been shunted. Most of the other fellows gave her a good name, and there was a pretty general opinion growing among the crowd, that it was all a silly yarn about her being haunted. And then, just when I was settling down to things, something happened that opened my eyes no end.
It was in the eight to twelve watch, and I was sitting on the steps, on the starboard side, leading up to the fo'cas'le head. The night was fine and there was a splendid moon. Away aft, I heard the timekeeper strike four bells, and the look-out, an old fellow named Jaskett, answered him. As he let go the bell lanyard, he caught sight of me, where I sat quietly, smoking. He leant over the rail, and looked down at me.
"That you, Jessop?" he asked.
"I believe it is," I replied.
"We'd 'ave our gran'mothers an' all the rest of our petticoated relash'ns comin' to sea, if 'twere always like this," he remarked, reflectively—indicating, with a sweep of his pipe and hand, the calmness of the sea and sky.
I saw no reason for denying that, and he continued:
"If this ole packet is 'aunted, as some on 'em seems to think, well all as I can say is, let me 'ave the luck to tumble across another of the same sort. Good grub, an' duff fer Sundays, an' a decent crowd of 'em aft, an' everythin' comfertable like, so as yer can feel yer knows where yer are. As fer 'er bein' 'aunted, that's all 'ellish nonsense. I've comed 'cross lots of 'em before as was said to be 'aunted, an' so some on 'em was; but 'twasn't with ghostesses. One packet I was in, they was that bad yer couldn't sleep a wink in yer watch below, until yer'd 'ad every stitch out yer bunk an' 'ad a reg'lar 'unt. Sometimes—" At that moment, the relief, one of the ordinary seamen, went up the other ladder on to the fo'cas'le head, and the old chap turned to ask him "Why the 'ell" he'd not relieved him a bit smarter. The ordinary made some reply; but what it was, I did not catch; for, abruptly, away aft, my rather sleepy gaze had lighted on something altogether extraordinary and outrageous. It was nothing less than the form of a man stepping inboard ov
er the starboard rail, a little abaft the main rigging. I stood up, and caught at the handrail, and stared.