The Pirate Story Megapack: 25 Classic and Modern Tales

by Robert E. Howard

  “They’re fightin’…like…hell!”

  “What?” called the Second Mate, breathlessly.

  Apparently, Stubbins did not hear him; for he made no reply. We cleared the crosstrees, and climbed into the t’gallant rigging. The wind was fairly fresh up there, and overhead, there sounded the flap, flap of sailcloth flying in the wind; but since we had left the deck, there had been no other sound from above.

  Now, abruptly, there came again a wild crying from the darkness over us. A strange, wild medley it was of screams for help, mixed up with violent, breathless curses.

  Beneath the royal yard, Stubbins halted, and looked down to me.

  “Hurry hup…with ther…lantern…Jessop!” he shouted, catching his breath between the words. “There’ll be…murder done…hin a minute!”

  I reached him, and held the light up for him to catch. He stooped, and took it from me. Then, holding it above his head, he went a few ratlines higher. In this manner, he reached to a level with the royal yard. From my position, a little below him, the lantern seemed but to throw a few straggling, flickering rays along the spar; yet they showed me something. My first glance had been to wind’ard, and I had seen at once, that there was nothing on the weather yard arm. From there my gaze went to leeward. Indistinctly, I saw something upon the yard, that clung, struggling. Stubbins bent towards it with the light; thus I saw it more clearly. It was Jacobs, the Ordinary Seaman. He had his right arm tightly round the yard; with the other, he appeared to be fending himself from something on the other side of him, and further out upon the yard. At times, moans and gasps came from him, and sometimes curses. Once, as he appeared to be dragged partly from his hold, he screamed like a woman. His whole attitude suggested stubborn despair. I can scarcely tell you how this extraordinary sight affected me. I seemed to stare at it without realising that the affair was a real happening.

  During the few seconds which I had spent staring and breathless, Stubbins had climbed round the after side of the mast, and now I began again to follow him.

  From his position below me, the Second had not been able to see the thing that was occurring on the yard, and he sung out to me to know what was happening.

  “It’s Jacobs, Sir,” I called back. “He seems to be fighting with someone to looard of him. I can’t see very plainly yet.”

  Stubbins had got round on to the lee foot-rope, and now he held the lantern up, peering, and I made my way quickly alongside of him. The Second Mate followed; but instead of getting down on to the foot-rope, he got on the yard, and stood there holding on to the tie. He sung out for one of us to pass him up the lantern, which I did, Stubbins handing it to me. The Second held it out at arm’s length, so that it lit up the lee part of the yard. The light showed through the darkness, as far as to where Jacobs struggled so weirdly. Beyond him, nothing was distinct.

  There had been a moment’s delay while we were passing the lantern up to the Second Mate. Now, however, Stubbins and I moved out slowly along the foot-rope. We went slowly; but we did well to go at all, with any show of boldness; for the whole business was so abominably uncanny. It seems impossible to convey truly to you, the strange scene on the royal yard. You may be able to picture it yourselves. The Second Mate standing upon the spar, holding the lantern; his body swaying with each roll of the ship, and his head craned forward as he peered along the yard. On our left, Jacobs, mad, fighting, cursing, praying, gasping; and outside of him, shadows and the night.

  The Second Mate spoke, abruptly.

  “Hold on a moment!” he said. Then:

  “Jacobs!” he shouted. “Jacobs, do you hear me?”

  There was no reply, only the continual gasping and cursing.

  “Go on,” the Second Mate said to us. “But be careful. Keep a tight hold!”

  He held the lantern higher and we went out cautiously.

  Stubbins reached the Ordinary, and put his hand on his shoulder, with a soothing gesture.

  “Steady hon now, Jacobs,” he said. “Steady hon.”

  At his touch, as though by magic, the young fellow calmed down, and Stubbins—reaching round him—grasped the jackstay on the other side.

  “Get a hold of him your side, Jessop,” he sung out. “I’ll get this side.”

  This, I did, and Stubbins climbed round him.

  “There hain’t no one here,” Stubbins called to me; but his voice expressed no surprise.

  “What!” sung out the Second Mate. “No one there! Where’s Svensen, then?”

  I did not catch Stubbins’s reply; for suddenly, it seemed to me that I saw something shadowy at the extreme end of the yard, out by the lift. I stared. It rose up, upon the yard, and I saw that it was the figure of a man. It grasped at the lift, and commenced to swarm up, quickly. It passed diagonally above Stubbins’s head, and reached down a vague hand and arm.

  “Look out! Stubbins!” I shouted. “Look out!”

  “What’s hup now?” he called, in a startled voice. At the same instant, his cap went whirling away to leeward.

  “Damn ther wind!” he burst out.

  Then all at once, Jacobs, who had only been giving an occasional moan, commenced to shriek and struggle.

  “Hold fast hon ter him!” Stubbins yelled. “He’ll be throwin’ hisself hoff ther yard!”

  I put my left arm round the Ordinary’s body—getting hold of the jackstay on the other side. Then I looked up. Above us, I seemed to see something dark and indistinct, that moved rapidly up the lift.

  “Keep tight hold of him, while I get a gasket,” I heard the Second Mate sing out.

  A moment later there was a crash, and the light disappeared.

  “Damn and set fire to the sail!” shouted the Second Mate.

  I twisted round, somewhat, and looked in his direction. I could dimly make him out on the yard. He had evidently been in the act of getting down on to the foot-rope, when the lantern was smashed. From him, my gaze jumped to the lee rigging. It seemed that I made out some shadowy thing stealing down through the darkness; but I could not be sure; and then, in a breath, it had gone.

  “Anything wrong, Sir?” I called out.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I’ve dropped the lantern. The blessed sail knocked it out of my hand!”

  “We’ll be all right, Sir,” I replied. “I think we can manage without it. Jacobs seems to be quieter now.”

  “Well, be careful as you come in,” he warned us.

  “Come on, Jacobs,” I said. “Come on; we’ll go down on deck.”

  “Go along, young feller,” Stubbins put in. “You’re right now. We’ll take care of you.” And we started to guide him along the yard.

  He went willingly enough, though without saying a word. He seemed like a child. Once or twice he shivered; but said nothing.

  We got him in to the lee rigging. Then, one going beside him, and the other keeping below, we made our way slowly down on deck. We went very slowly—so slowly, in fact, that the Second Mate—who had stayed a minute to shove the gasket round the lee side of the sail—was almost as soon down.

  “Take Jacobs forward to his bunk,” he said, and went away aft to where a crowd of the men, one with a lantern, stood round the door of an empty berth under the break of the poop on the starboard side.

  We hurried forward to the fo’cas’le. There we found all in darkness.

  “They’re haft with Jock, and Svenson!” Stubbins had hesitated an instant before saying the name.

  “Yes,” I replied. “That’s what it must have been, right enough.”

  “I kind of knew it all ther time,” he said.

  I stepped in through the doorway, and struck a match. Stubbins followed, guiding Jacobs before him, and, together, we got him into his bunk. We covered him up with his blankets, for he was pretty shivery. Then we came out. During the whole time, he had not spoken a word.

  As we went aft, Stubbins remarked that he thought the business must have made him a bit dotty.

  “It’s driven him clean barmy,” he
went on. “He don’t hunderstand a word that’s said ter him.”

  “He may be different in the morning,” I answered.

  As we neared the poop, and the crowd of waiting men, he spoke again:

  “They’ve put ’em hinter ther Second’s hempty berth.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Poor beggars.”

  We reached the other men, and they opened out, and allowed us to get near the door. Several of them asked in low tones, whether Jacobs was all right, and I told them, “Yes”; not saying anything then about his condition.

  I got close up to the doorway, and looked into the berth. The lamp was lit, and I could see, plainly. There were two bunks in the place, and a man had been laid in each. The Skipper was there, leaning up against a bulkshead. He looked worried; but was silent—seeming to be mooding in his own thoughts. The Second Mate was busy with a couple of flags, which he was spreading over the bodies. The First Mate was talking, evidently telling him something; but his tone was so low that I caught his words only with difficulty. It struck me that he seemed pretty subdued. I got parts of his sentences in patches, as it were.

  “…broken,” I heard him say. “And the Dutchman.…”

  “I’ve seen him,” the Second Mate said, shortly.

  “Two, straight off the reel,” said the Mate “…three in.…”

  The Second made no reply.

  “Of course, yer know…accident.” The First Mate went on.

  “Is it!” the Second said, in a queer voice.

  I saw the Mate glance at him, in a doubtful sort of way; but the Second was covering poor old Jock’s dead face, and did not appear to notice his look.

  “It—it —” the mate said, and stopped.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he said something further, that I could not catch; but there seemed a lot of funk in his voice.

  The Second Mate appeared not to have heard him; at any rate, he made no reply; but bent, and straightened out a corner of the flag over the rigid figure in the lower bunk. There was a certain niceness in his action which made me warm towards him.

  “He’s white!” I thought to myself.

  Out loud, I said:

  “We’ve put Jacobs into his bunk, Sir.”

  The Mate jumped; then whizzed round, and stared at me as though I had been a ghost. The Second Mate turned also; but before he could speak, the Skipper took a step towards me.

  “Is he all right?” he asked.

  “Well, Sir,” I said. “He’s a bit queer; but I think it’s possible he may be better, after a sleep.”

  “I hope so, too,” he replied, and stepped out on deck. He went towards the starboard poop ladder, walking slowly. The Second went and stood by the lamp, and the Mate, after a quick glance at him, came out and followed the Skipper up on to the poop. It occurred to me then, like a flash, that the man had stumbled upon a portion of the truth. This accident coming so soon after that other! It was evident that, in his mind, he had connected them. I recollected the fragments of his remarks to the Second Mate. Then, those many minor happenings that had cropped up at different times, and at which he had sneered. I wondered whether he would begin to comprehend their significance—their beastly, sinister significance.

  “Ah! Mr. Bully-Mate,” I thought to myself. “You’re in for a bad time if you’ve begun to understand.”

  Abruptly, my thoughts jumped to the vague future before us.

  “God help us!” I muttered.

  The Second Mate, after a look round, turned down the wick of the lamp, and came out, closing the door after him.

  “Now, you men,” he said to the Mate’s watch, “get forward; we can’t do anything more. You’d better go and get some sleep.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” they said, in a chorus.

  Then, as we all turned to go forward, he asked if anyone had relieved the look-out.

  “No, sir,” answered Quoin.

  “Is it yours?” the Second asked.

  “Yes, Sir,” he replied.

  “Hurry up and relieve him then,” the Second said.

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” the man answered, and went forward with the rest of us.

  As we went, I asked Plummer who was at the wheel.

  “Tom,” he said.

  As he spoke, several spots of rain fell, and I glanced up at the sky. It had become thickly clouded.

  “Looks as if it were going to breeze up,” I said.

  “Yes,” he replied. “We’ll be shortenin’ ’er down ’fore long.”

  “May be an all-hands job,” I remarked.

  “Yes,” he answered again. “’Twon’t be no use their turnin’ in, if it is.”

  The man who was carrying the lantern, went into the fo’cas’le, and we followed.

  “Where’s ther one, belongin’ to our side?” Plummer asked.

  “Got smashed hupstairs,” answered Stubbins.

  “’ow were that?” Plummer inquired.

  Stubbins hesitated.

  “The Second Mate dropped it,” I replied. “The sail hit it, or something.”

  The men in the other watch seemed to have no immediate intention of turning-in; but sat in their bunks, and around on the chests. There was a general lighting of pipes, in the midst of which there came a sudden moan from one of the bunks in the forepart of the fo’cas’le—a part that was always a bit gloomy, and was more so now, on account of our having only one lamp.

  “Wot’s that?” asked one of the men belonging to the other side.

  “S—sh!” said Stubbins. “It’s him.”

  “’oo?” inquired Plummer. “Jacobs?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Poor devil!”

  “Wot were ’appenin’ w’en yer got hup ther’?” asked the man on the other side, indicating with a jerk of his head, the fore royal.

  Before I could reply, Stubbins jumped up from his sea-chest.

  “Ther Second Mate’s whistlin’!” he said. “Come hon,” and he ran out on deck.

  Plummer, Jaskett and I followed quickly. Outside, it had started to rain pretty heavily. As we went, the Second Mate’s voice came to us through the darkness.

  “Stand by the main royal clewlines and buntlines,” I heard him shout, and the next instant came the hollow thutter of the sail as he started to lower away.

  In a few minutes we had it hauled up.

  “Up and furl it, a couple of you,” he sung out.

  I went towards the starboard rigging; then I hesitated. No one else had moved.

  The Second Mate came among us.

  “Come on now, lads,” he said. “Make a move. It’s got to be done.”

  “I’ll go,” I said. “If someone else will come.”

  Still, no one stirred, and no one answered.

  Tammy came across to me.

  “I’ll come,” he volunteered, in a nervous voice.

  “No, by God, no!” said the Second Mate, abruptly.

  He jumped into the main rigging himself. “Come along, Jessop!” he shouted.

  I followed him; but I was astonished. I had fully expected him to get on to the other fellows’ tracks like a ton of bricks. It had not occurred to me that he was making allowances. I was simply puzzled then; but afterwards it dawned upon me.

  No sooner had I followed the Second Mate, than, straightway, Stubbins, Plummer, and Jaskett came up after us at a run.

  About halfway to the maintop, the Second Mate stopped, and looked down.

  “Who’s that coming up below you, Jessop?” he asked.

  Before I could, speak, Stubbins answered:

  “It’s me, Sir, an’ Plummer an’ Jaskett.”

  “Who the devil told you to come now? Go straight down, the lot of you!”

  “We’re comin’ hup ter keep you company, Sir,” was his reply.

  At that, I was confident of a burst of temper from the Second; and yet, for the second time within a couple of minutes I was wrong. Instead of cursing Stubbins, he, after a moment’s pause, went on up the rigging, without another word, and t
he rest of us followed. We reached the royal, and made short work of it; indeed, there were sufficient of us to have eaten it. When we had finished, I noticed that the Second Mate remained on the yard until we were all in the rigging. Evidently, he had determined to take a full share of any risk there might be; but I took care to keep pretty close to him; so as to be on hand if anything happened; yet we reached the deck again, without anything having occurred. I have said, without anything having occurred; but I am not really correct in this; for, as the Second Mate came down over the crosstrees, he gave a short, abrupt cry.

  “Anything wrong, Sir?” I asked.

  “No—o!” he said. “Nothing! I banged my knee.”

  And yet now, I believe he was lying. For, that same watch, I was to hear men giving just such cries; but, God knows, they had reason enough.

  X

  Hands That Plucked

  Directly we reached the deck, the Second Mate gave the order:

  “Mizzen t’gallant clewlines and buntlines,” and led the way up on to the poop. He went and stood by the haulyards, ready to lower away. As I walked across to the starboard clewline, I saw that the Old Man was on deck, and as I took hold of the rope, I heard him sing out to the Second Mate.

  “Call all hands to shorten sail, Mr. Tulipson.”

  “Very good, Sir,” the Second Mate replied. Then he raised his voice:

  “Go forward, you, Jessop, and call all hands to shorten sail. You’d better give them a call in the bosun’s place, as you go.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” I sung out, and hurried off.

  As I went, I heard him tell Tammy to go down and call the Mate.

  Reaching the fo’cas’le, I put my head in through the starboard doorway, and found some of the men beginning to turn-in.

  “It’s all hands on deck, shorten sail,” I sung out.

  I stepped inside.

  “Just wot I said,” grumbled one of the men.

  “They don’t damn well think we’re goin’ aloft tonight, after what’s happened?” asked another.

  “We’ve been up to the main royal,” I answered. “The Second Mate went with us.”

  “Wot?” said the first man. “Ther Second Mate hisself?”