“Yes, Sir,” said the man, and came forward.
In a minute, Jaskett stumbled up onto the fo’cas’le head.
“What’s up, mate?” he asked sleepily.
“It’s that fool of a Second Mate!” I said, savagely. “I’ve reported a light to him three times, and, because the blind fool can’t see it, he’s sent you up to relieve me!”
“Where is it, mate?” he inquired.
He looked round at the dark sea.
“I don’t see no light,” he remarked, after a few moments.
“No,” I said. “It’s gone.”
“Eh?” he inquired.
“It’s gone!” I repeated, irritably.
He turned and regarded me silently, through the dark.
“I’d go an’ ’ave a sleep, mate,” he said, at length. “I’ve been that way meself. Ther’s nothin’ like a snooze w’en yer gets like that.”
“What!” I said. “Like what?”
“It’s all right, mate. Yer’ll be all right in ther mornin’. Don’t yer worry ’bout me.” His tone was sympathetic.
“Hell!” was all I said, and walked down off the fo’cas’le head. I wondered whether the old fellow thought I was going silly.
“Have a sleep, by Jove!” I muttered to myself. “I wonder who’d feel like having a sleep after what I’ve seen and stood today!”
I felt rotten, with no one understanding what was really the matter. I seemed to be all alone, through the things I had learnt. Then the thought came to me to go aft and talk the matter over with Tammy. I knew he would be able to understand, of course; and it would be such a relief.
On the impulse, I turned and went aft, along the deck to the ’prentices’ berth. As I neared the break of the poop, I looked up and saw the dark shape of the Second Mate, leaning over the rail above me.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“It’s Jessop, Sir,” I said.
“What do you want in this part of the ship?” he inquired.
“I’d come aft to speak to Tammy, Sir,” I replied.
“You go along forward and turn-in,” he said, not altogether unkindly. “A sleep will do you more good than yarning about. You know, you’re getting to fancy things too much!”
“I’m sure I’m not, Sir! I’m perfectly well. I —”
“That will do!” he interrupted, sharply. “You go and have a sleep.”
I gave a short curse, under my breath, and went slowly forward. I was getting maddened with being treated as if I were not quite sane.
“By God!” I said to myself. “Wait till the fools know what I know—just wait!”
I entered the fo’cas’le, through the port doorway, and went across to my chest, and sat down. I felt angry and tired, and miserable.
Quoin and Plummer were sitting close by, playing cards, and smoking. Stubbins lay in his bunk, watching them, and also smoking. As I sat down, he put his head forward over the bunk-board, and regarded me in a curious, meditative way.
“What’s hup with ther Second hofficer?” he asked, after a short stare.
I looked at him, and the other two men looked up at me. I felt I should go off with a bang, if I did not say something, and I let out pretty stiffly, telling them the whole business. Yet, I had seen enough to know that it was no good trying to explain things; so I just told them the plain, bold facts, and left explanations as much alone as possible.
“Three times, you say?” said Stubbins when I had finished.
“Yes,” I assented.
“An’ ther Old Man sent yer from ther wheel this mornin’, ’cause yer ’appened ter see a ship ’e couldn’t,” Plummer added in a reflective tone.
“Yes,” I said, again.
I thought I saw him look at Quoin, significantly; but Stubbins, I noticed, looked only at me.
“I reckon ther Second thinks you’re a bit hoff colour,” he remarked, after a short pause.
“The Second Mate’s a fool!” I said, with some bitterness. “A confounded fool!”
“I hain’t so sure about that,” he replied. “It’s bound ter seem queer ter him. I don’t understand it myself —”
He lapsed into silence, and smoked.
“I carn’t understand ’ow it is ther Second Mate didn’t ’appen to spot it,” Quoin said, in a puzzled voice.
It seemed to me that Plummer nudged him to be quiet. It looked as if Plummer shared the Second Mate’s opinion, and the idea made me savage. But Stubbins’s next remark drew my attention.
“I don’t hunderstand it,” he said, again; speaking with deliberation. “All ther same, ther Second should have savvied enough not to have slung you hoff ther look-hout.”
He nodded his head, slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on my face.
“How do you mean?” I asked, puzzled; yet with a vague sense that the man understood more, perhaps, than I had hitherto thought.
“I mean what’s ther Second so blessed cocksure about?”
He took a draw at his pipe, removed it, and leant forward somewhat, over his bunk-board.
“Didn’t he say nothin’ ter you, after you came hoff ther look-hout?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied; “he spotted me going aft. He told me I was getting to imagining things too much. He said I’d better come forward and get a sleep.”
“An’ what did you say?”
“Nothing. I came forward.”
“Why didn’t you bloomin’ well harsk him if he weren’t doin’ ther imaginin’ trick when he sent us chasin’ hup ther main, hafter that bogyman of his?”
“I never thought of it,” I told him.
“Well, yer ought ter have.”
He paused, and sat up in his bunk, and asked for a match.
As I passed him my box, Quoin looked up from his game.
“It might ’ave been a stowaway, yer know. Yer carn’t say as it’s ever been proved as it wasn’t.”
Stubbins passed the box back to me, and went on without noticing Quoin’s remark:
“Told you to go an’ have a snooze, did he? I don’t hunderstand what he’s bluffin’ at.”
“How do you mean, bluffing?” I asked.
He nodded his head, sagely.
“It’s my hidea he knows you saw that light, just as bloomin’ well as I do.”
Plummer looked up from his game, at this speech; but said nothing.
“Then you don’t doubt that I really saw it?” I asked, with a certain surprise.
“Not me,” he remarked, with assurance. “You hain’t likely ter make that kind of mistake three times runnin’.”
“No,” I said. “I know I saw the light, right enough; but”—I hesitated a moment—“it’s blessed queer.”
“It is blessed queer!” he agreed. “It’s damned queer! An’ there’s a lot of other damn queer things happenin’ aboard this packet lately.”
He was silent for a few seconds. Then he spoke suddenly:
“It’s not nat’ral, I’m damned sure of that much.”
He took a couple of draws at his pipe, and in the momentary silence, I caught Jaskett’s voice, above us. He was hailing the poop.
“Red light on the starboard quarter, Sir,” I heard him sing out.
“There you are,” I said with a jerk of my head. “That’s about where that packet I spotted, ought to be by now. She couldn’t cross our bows, so she up helm, and let us pass, and now she’s hauled up again and gone under our stern.”
I got up from the chest, and went to the door, the other three following. As we stepped out on deck, I heard the Second Mate shouting out, away aft, to know the whereabouts of the light.
“By Jove! Stubbins,” I said. “I believe the blessed thing’s gone again.”
We ran to the starboard side, in a body, and looked over; but there was no sign of a light in the darkness astern.
“I carn’t say as I see any light,” said Quoin.
Plummer said nothing.
I looked up at the fo’cas’le head. There, I could faintl
y distinguish the outlines of Jaskett. He was standing by the starboard rail, with his hands up, shading his eyes, evidently staring towards the place where he had last seen the light.
“Where’s she got to, Jaskett?” I called out.
“I can’t say, mate,” he answered. “It’s the most ’ellishly funny thing I’ve ever comed across. She were there as plain as me ’att one minnit, an’ ther next she were gone—clean gone.”
I turned to Plummer.
“What do you think about it, now?” I asked him.
“Well,” he said. “I’ll admit I thought at first ’twere somethin’ an’ nothin’. I thought yer was mistaken; but it seems yer did see somethin’.”
Away aft, we heard the sound of steps, along the deck.
“Ther Second’s comin’ forward for a hexplanation, Jaskett,” Stubbins sung out. “You’d better go down an’ change yer breeks.”
The Second Mate passed us, and went up the starboard ladder.
“What’s up now, Jaskett?” he said quickly. “Where is this light? Neither the ’prentice nor I can see it!”
“Ther damn thing’s clean gone, Sir,” Jaskett replied.
“Gone!” the Second Mate said. “Gone! What do you mean?”
“She were there one minnit, Sir, as plain as me ’att, an’ ther next, she’d gone.”
“That’s a damn silly yarn to tell me!” the Second replied. “You don’t expect me to believe it, do you?”
“It’s Gospel trewth any’ow, Sir,” Jaskett answered. “An’ Jessop seen it just ther same.”
He seemed to have added that last part as an afterthought. Evidently, the old beggar had changed his opinion as to my need for sleep.
“You’re an old fool, Jaskett,” the Second said, sharply. “And that idiot Jessop has been putting things into your silly old head.”
He paused, an instant. Then he continued:
“What the devil’s the matter with you all, that you’ve taken to this sort of game? You know very well that you saw no light! I sent Jessop off the look-out, and then you must go and start the same game.”
“We ’aven’t —” Jaskett started to say; but the Second silenced him.
“Stow it!” he said, and turned and went down the ladder, passing us quickly, without a word.
“Doesn’t look to me, Stubbins,” I said, “as though the Second did believe we’ve seen the light.”
“I hain’t so sure,” he answered. “He’s a puzzler.”
The rest of the watch passed away quietly; and at eight bells I made haste to turn-in, for I was tremendously tired.
When we were called again for the four to eight watch on deck, I learnt that one of the men in the Mate’s watch had seen a light, soon after we had gone below, and had reported it, only for it to disappear immediately. This, I found, had happened twice, and the Mate had got so wild (being under the impression that the man was playing the fool) that he had nearly came to blows with him—finally ordering him off the look-out, and sending another man up in his place. If this last man saw the light, he took good care not to let the Mate know; so that the matter had ended there.
And then, on the following night, before we had ceased to talk about the matter of the vanishing lights, something else occurred that temporarily drove from my mind all memory of the mist, and the extraordinary, blind atmosphere it had seemed to usher.
IX
The Man Who Cried for Help
It was, as I have said, on the following night that something further happened. And it brought home pretty vividly to me, if not to any of the others, the sense of a personal danger aboard.
We had gone below for the eight to twelve watch, and my last impression of the weather at eight o’clock, was that the wind was freshening. There had been a great bank of cloud rising astern, which had looked as if it were going to breeze up still more.
At a quarter to twelve, when we were called for our twelve to four watch on deck, I could tell at once, by the sound, that there was a fresh breeze blowing; at the same time, I heard the voices of the men on the other watch, singing out as they hauled on the ropes. I caught the rattle of canvas in the wind, and guessed that they were taking the royals off her. I looked at my watch, which I always kept hanging in my bunk. It showed the time to be just after the quarter; so that, with luck, we should escape having to go up to the sails.
I dressed quickly, and then went to the door to look at the weather. I found that the wind had shifted from the starboard quarter, to right aft; and, by the look of the sky, there seemed to be a promise of more, before long.
Up aloft, I could make out faintly the fore and mizzen royals flapping in the wind. The main had been left for a while longer. In the fore riggings, Jacobs, the Ordinary Seaman in the Mate’s watch, was following another of the men aloft to the sail. The Mate’s two ’prentices were already up at the mizzen. Down on deck, the rest of the men were busy clearing up the ropes.
I went back to my bunk, and looked at my watch—the time was only a few minutes off eight bells; so I got my oilskins ready, for it looked like rain outside. As I was doing this, Jock went to the door for a look.
“What’s it doin’, Jock?” Tom asked, getting out of his bunk, hurriedly.
“I’m thinkin’ maybe it’s goin’ to blow a wee, and ye’ll be needin’ yer’ oilskins,” Jock answered.
When eight bells went, and we mustered aft for roll-call, there was a considerable delay, owing to the Mate refusing to call the roll until Tom (who as usual, had only turned out of his bunk at the last minute) came aft to answer his name. When, at last, he did come, the Second and the Mate joined in giving him a good dressing down for a lazy sojer; so that several minutes passed before we were on our way forward again. This was a small enough matter in itself, and yet really terrible in its consequence to one of our number; for, just as we reached the fore rigging, there was a shout aloft, loud above the noise of the wind, and the next moment, something crashed down into our midst, with a great, slogging thud—something bulky and weighty, that struck full upon Jock, so that he went down with a loud, horrible, ringing “ugg,” and never said a word. From the whole crowd of us there went up a yell of fear, and then, with one accord, there was a run for the lighted fo’cas’le. I am not ashamed to say that I ran with the rest. A blind, unreasoning fright had seized me, and I did not stop to think.
Once in the fo’cas’le and the light, there was a reaction. We all stood and looked blankly at one another for a few moments. Then someone asked a question, and there was a general murmur of denial. We all felt ashamed, and someone reached up and unhooked the lantern on the port side. I did the same with the starboard one; and there was a quick movement towards the doors. As we streamed out on deck, I caught the sound of the Mates’ voices. They had evidently come down from off the poop to find out what had happened; but it was too dark to see their whereabouts.
“Where the hell have you all got to?” I heard the Mate shout.
The next instant, they must have seen the light from our lanterns; for I heard their footsteps, coming along the deck at a run. They came the starboard side, and just abaft the fore rigging, one of them stumbled and fell over something. It was the First Mate who had tripped. I knew this by the cursing that came directly afterwards. He picked himself up, and, apparently without stopping to see what manner of thing it was that he had fallen over, made a rush to the pin-rail. The Second Mate ran into the circle of light thrown by our lanterns, and stopped, dead—eyeing us doubtfully. I am not surprised at this, now, nor at the behaviour of the Mate, the following instant; but at that time, I must say I could not conceive what had come to them, particularly the First Mate. He came out at us from the darkness with a rush and a roar like a bull and brandishing a belaying-pin. I had failed to take into account the scene which his eyes must have shown him:—the whole crowd of men in the fo’cas’le—both watches—pouring out on to the deck in utter confusion, and greatly excited, with a couple of fellows at their head, carrying lanterns.
And before this, there had been the cry aloft and the crash down on deck, followed by the shouts of the frightened crew, and the sounds of many feet running. He may well have taken the cry for a signal, and our actions for something not far short of mutiny. Indeed, his words told us that this was his very thought.
“I’ll knock the face off the first man that comes a step further aft!” he shouted, shaking the pin in my face. “I’ll show yer who’s master here! What the hell do yer mean by this? Get forward into yer kennel!”
There was a low growl from the men at the last remark, and the old bully stepped back a couple of paces.
“Hold on, you fellows!” I sung out. “Shut up a minute.”
“Mr. Tulipson!” I called out to the Second, who had not been able to get a word in edgeways, “I don’t know what the devil’s the matter with the First Mate; but he’ll not find it pay to talk to a crowd like ours, in that sort of fashion, or there’ll be ructions aboard.”
“Come! come! Jessop! This won’t do! I can’t have you talking like that about the Mate!” he said, sharply. “Let me know what’s to-do, and then go forward again, the lot of you.”
“We’d have told you at first, Sir,” I said, “only the Mate wouldn’t give any of us a chance to speak. There’s been an awful accident, Sir. Something’s fallen from aloft, right on to Jock —”
I stopped suddenly; for there was a loud crying aloft.
“Help! help! help!” someone was shouting, and then it rose from a shout into a scream.
“My God! Sir!” I shouted. “That’s one of the men up at the fore royal!”
“Listen!” ordered the Second Mate. “Listen!” Even as he spoke, it came again—broken and, as it were, in gasps.
“Help!… Oh!… God!… Oh!… Help! H-e-l-p!”
Abruptly, Stubbins’s voice struck in.
“Hup with us, lads! By God! hup with us!” and he made a spring into the fore rigging. I shoved the handle of the lantern between my teeth, and followed. Plummer was coming; but the Second Mate pulled him back.
“That’s sufficient,” he said. “I’m going,” and he came up after me.
We went over the foretop, racing like fiends. The light from the lantern prevented me from seeing to any distance in the darkness; but, at the crosstrees, Stubbins, who was some ratlines ahead, shouted out all at once, and in gasps:
The Pirate Story Megapack: 25 Classic and Modern Tales Page 338