Suddenly, the time-keeper struck three bells, and the deeper notes of the bell forward, answered them. I gave a start. It seemed to me that they had been struck close to my elbow. There was something unaccountably strange in the air that night. Then, even as the Second Mate answered the look-out’s “All’s well,” there came the sharp whir and rattle of running gear, on the port side of the mainmast. Simultaneously, there was the shrieking of a parrel, up the main; and I knew that someone, or something, had let go the main-topsail haul-yards. From aloft there came the sound of something parting; then the crash of the yard as it ceased falling.
The Second Mate shouted out something unintelligible, and jumped for the ladder. From the maindeck there came the sound of running feet, and the voices of the watch, shouting. Then I caught the Skipper’s voice; he must have run out on deck, through the Saloon doorway.
“Get some more lamps! Get some more lamps!” he was singing out. Then he swore.
He sung out something further. I caught the last two words.
“…carried away,” they sounded like.
“No, Sir,” shouted the Second Mate. “I don’t think so.”
A minute of some confusion followed; and then came the click of pawls. I could tell that they had taken the haulyards to the after capstan. Odd words floated up to me.
“…all this water?” I heard in the Old Man’s voice. He appeared to be asking a question.
“Can’t say, Sir,” came the Second Mate’s.
There was a period of time, filled only by the clicking of the pawls and the sounds of the creaking parrel and the running gear. Then the Second Mate’s voice came again.
“Seems all right, Sir,” I heard him say.
I never heard the Old Man’s reply; for in the same moment, there came to me a chill of cold breath at my back. I turned sharply, and saw something peering over the taffrail. It had eyes that reflected the binnacle light, weirdly, with a frightful, tigerish gleam; but beyond that, I could see nothing with any distinctness. For the moment, I just stared. I seemed frozen. It was so close. Then movement came to me, and I jumped to the binnacle and snatched out the lamp. I twitched round, and shone the light towards it. The thing, whatever it was, had come more forward over the rail; but now, before the light, it recoiled with a queer, horrible litheness. It slid back, and down, and so out of sight. I have only a confused notion of a wet glistening Something, and two vile eyes. Then I was running, crazy, towards the break of the poop. I sprang down the ladder, and missed my footing, and landed on my stern, at the bottom. In my left hand I held the still burning binnacle lamp. The men were putting away the capstan-bars; but at my abrupt appearance, and the yell I gave out at falling, one or two of them fairly ran backwards a short distance, in sheer funk, before they realised what it was.
From somewhere further forward, the Old Man and the Second Mate came running aft.
“What the devil’s up now?” sung out the Second, stopping and bending to stare at me. “What’s to do, that you’re away from the wheel?”
I stood up and tried to answer him; but I was so shaken that I could only stammer.
“I—I—there —” I stuttered.
“Damnation!” shouted the Second Mate, angrily. “Get back to the wheel!”
I hesitated, and tried to explain.
“Do you damned well hear me?” he sung out.
“Yes, Sir; but —” I began.
“Get up on to the poop, Jessop!” he said.
I went. I meant to explain, when he came up. At the top of the ladder, I stopped. I was not going back alone to that wheel. Down below, I heard the Old Man speaking.
“What on earth is it now, Mr. Tulipson?” he was saying.
The Second Mate made no immediate reply; but turned to the men, who were evidently crowding near.
“That will do, men!” he said, somewhat sharply.
I heard the watch start to go forward. There came a mutter of talk from them. Then the Second Mate answered the Old Man. He could not have known that I was near enough to overhear him.
“It’s Jessop, Sir. He must have seen something; but we mustn’t frighten the crowd more than need be.”
“No,” said the Skipper’s voice.
They turned and came up the ladder, and I ran back a few steps, as far as the skylight. I heard the Old Man speak as they came up.
“How is it there are no lamps, Mr. Tulipson?” he said, in a surprised tone.
“I thought there would be no need up here, Sir,” the Second Mate replied. Then he added something about saving oil.
“Better have them, I think,” I heard the Skipper say.
“Very good, Sir,” answered the Second, and sung out to the time-keeper to bring up a couple of lamps.
Then the two of them walked aft, to where I stood by the skylight.
“What are you doing, away from the wheel?” asked the Old Man, in a stern voice.
I had collected my wits somewhat by now.
“I won’t go, Sir, till there’s a light,” I said.
The Skipper stamped his foot, angrily; but the Second Mate stepped forward.
“Come! Come, Jessop!” he exclaimed. “This won’t do, you know! You’d better get back to the wheel without further bother.”
“Wait a minute,” said the Skipper, at this juncture. “What objection have you to going back to the wheel?” he asked.
“I saw something,” I said. “It was climbing over the taffrail, Sir —”
“Ah!” he said, interrupting me with a quick gesture. Then, abruptly: “Sit down! sit down; you’re all in a shake, man.”
I flopped down on to the skylight seat. I was, as he had said, all in a shake, and the binnacle lamp was wobbling in my hand, so that the light from it went dancing here and there across the deck.
“Now,” he went on. “Just tell us what you saw.”
I told them, at length, and while I was doing so, the time-keeper brought up the lights and lashed one up on the sheerpole in each rigging.
“Shove one under the spanker boom,” the Old Man sung out, as the boy finished lashing up the other two. “Be smart now.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” said the ’prentice, and hurried off.
“Now then,” remarked the Skipper when this had been done “You needn’t be afraid to go back to the wheel. There’s a light over the stern, and the Second Mate or myself will be up here all the time.”
I stood up.
“Thank you, Sir,” I said, and went aft. I replaced my lamp in the binnacle, and took hold of the wheel; yet, time and again, I glanced behind and I was very thankful when, a few minutes later, four bells went, and I was relieved.
Though the rest of the chaps were forward in the fo’cas’le, I did not go there. I shirked being questioned about my sudden appearance at the foot of the poop ladder; and so I lit my pipe and wandered about the maindeck. I did not feel particularly nervous, as there were now two lanterns in each rigging, and a couple standing upon each of the spare top-masts under the bulwarks.
Yet, a little after five bells, it seemed to me that I saw a shadowy face peer over the rail, a little abaft the fore lanyards. I snatched up one of the lanterns from off the spar, and flashed the light towards it, whereupon there was nothing. Only, on my mind, more than my sight, I fancy, a queer knowledge remained of wet, peery eyes. Afterwards, when I thought about them, I felt extra beastly. I knew then how brutal they had been… Inscrutable, you know. Once more in that same watch I had a somewhat similar experience, only in this instance it had vanished even before I had time to reach a light. And then came eight bells, and our watch below.
XV
The Great Ghost Ship
When we were called again, at a quarter to four, the man who roused us out, had some queer information.
“Toppin’s gone—clean vanished!” he told us, as we began to turn out. “I never was in such a damned, hair-raisin’ hooker as this here. It ain’t safe to go about the bloomin’ decks.”
“’oo’
s gone?” asked Plummer, sitting up suddenly and throwing his legs over his bunk-board.
“Toppin, one of the ’prentices,” replied the man. “We’ve been huntin’ all over the bloomin’ show. We’re still at it—but we’ll never find him,” he ended, with a sort of gloomy assurance.
“Oh, I dunno,” said Quoin. “P’raps ’e’s snoozin’ somewheres ’bout.”
“Not him,” replied the man. “I tell you we’ve turned everythin’ upside down. He’s not aboard the bloomin’ ship.
“Where was he when they last saw him?” I asked.
“Someone must know something, you know!”
“Keepin’ time up on the poop,” he replied. “The Old Man’s nearly shook the life out of the Mate and the chap at the wheel. And they say they don’t know nothin’.”
“How do you mean?” I inquired. “How do you mean, nothing?”
“Well,” he answered. “The youngster was there one minute, and then the next thing they knew, he’d gone. They’ve both sworn black an’ blue that there wasn’t a whisper. He’s just disappeared off of the face of the bloomin’ earth.”
I got down on to my chest, and reached for my boots.
Before I could speak again, the man was saying something fresh.
“See here, mates,” he went on. “If things is goin’ on like this, I’d like to know where you an’ me’ll be befor’ long!”
“We’ll be in ’ell,” said Plummer.
“I dunno as I like to think ’bout it,” said Quoin.
“We’ll have to think about it!” replied the man. “We’ve got to think a bloomin’ lot about it. I’ve talked to our side, an’ they’re game.”
“Game for what?” I asked.
“To go an’ talk straight to the bloomin’ Capting,” he said, wagging his finger at me. “It’s make tracks for the nearest bloomin’ port, an’ don’t you make no bloomin’ mistake.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that the probability was we should not be able to make it, even if he could get the Old Man to see the matter from his point of view. Then I remembered that the chap had no idea of the things I had seen, and thought out; so, instead, I said:
“Supposing he won’t?”
“Then we’ll have to bloomin’ well make him,” he replied.
“And when you got there,” I said. “What then? You’d be jolly well locked up for mutiny.”
“I’d sooner be locked up,” he said. “It don’t kill you!”
There was a murmur of agreement from the others, and then a moment of silence, in which, I know, the men were thinking.
Jaskett’s voice broke into it.
“I never thought at first as she was ’aunted —” he commenced; but Plummer cut in across his speech.
“We mustn’t ’urt any one, yer know,” he said. “That’d mean ’angin’, an’ they ain’t been er bad crowd.
“No,” assented everyone, including the chap who had come to call us.
“All the same,” he added. “It’s got to be up hellum, an’ shove her into the nearest bloomin’ port.”
“Yes,” said everyone, and then eight bells went, and we cleared out on deck.
Presently, after roll-call—in which there had come a queer, awkward little pause at Toppin’s name—Tammy came over to me. The rest of the men had gone forward, and I guessed they were talking over mad plans for forcing the Skipper’s hand, and making him put into port—poor beggars!
I was leaning over the port rail, by the fore brace-lock, staring down into the sea, when Tammy came to me. For perhaps a minute he said nothing. When at last he spoke, it was to say that the shadow vessels had not been there since daylight.
“What?” I said, in some surprise. “How do you know?”
“I woke up when they were searching for Toppin,” he replied. “I’ve not been asleep since. I came here, right away.” He began to say something further; but stopped short.
“Yes,” I said encouragingly.
“I didn’t know —” he began, and broke off. He caught my arm. “Oh, Jessop!” he exclaimed. “What’s going to be the end of it all? Surely something can be done?”
I said nothing. I had a desperate feeling that there was very little we could do to help ourselves.
“Can’t we do something?” he asked, and shook my arm. “Anything’s better than this! We’re being murdered!”
Still, I said nothing; but stared moodily down into the water. I could plan nothing; though I would get mad, feverish fits of thinking.
“Do you hear?” he said. He was almost crying.
“Yes, Tammy,” I replied. “But I don’t know! I don’t know!”
“You don’t know!” he exclaimed. “You don’t know! Do you mean we’re just to give in, and be murdered, one after another?”
“We’ve done all we can,” I replied. “I don’t know what else we can do, unless we go below and lock ourselves in, every night.”
“That would be better than this,” he said. “There’ll be no one to go below, or anything else, soon!”
“But what if it came on to blow?” I asked. “We’d be having the sticks blown out of her.”
“What if it came on to blow now?” he returned. “No one would go aloft, if it were dark, you said, yourself! Besides, we could shorten her right down, first. I tell you, in a few days there won’t be a chap alive aboard this packet unless they jolly well do something!”
“Don’t shout,” I warned him. “You’ll have the Old Man hearing you.” But the young beggar was wound up, and would take no notice.
“I will shout,” he replied. “I want the Old Man to hear. I’ve a good mind to go up and tell him.”
He started on a fresh tack.
“Why don’t the men do something?” he began. “They ought to damn well make the Old Man put us into port! They ought —”
“For goodness sake, shut up, you little fool!” I said. “What’s the good of talking a lot of damned rot like that? You’ll be getting yourself into trouble.”
“I don’t care,” he replied. “I’m not going to be murdered!”
“Look here,” I said. “I told you before, that we shouldn’t be able to see the land, even if we made it.”
“You’ve no proof,” he answered. “It’s only your idea.”
“Well,” I replied. “Proof, or no proof, the Skipper would only pile her up, if he tried to make the land, with things as they are now.”
“Let him pile her up,” he answered. “Let him jolly well pile her up! That would be better than staying out here to be pulled overboard, or chucked down from aloft!”
“Look here, Tammy —” I began; but just then the Second Mate sung out for him, and he had to go. When he came back, I had started to walk to and from, across the fore side of the mainmast. He joined me, and after a minute, he started his wild talk again.
“Look here, Tammy,” I said, once more. “It’s no use your talking like you’ve been doing. Things are as they are, and it’s no one’s fault, and nobody can help it. If you want to talk sensibly, I’ll listen; if not, then go and gas to someone else.”
With that, I returned to the port side, and got up on the spar, again, intending to sit on the pinrail and have a bit of a talk with him. Before sitting down I glanced over, into the sea. The action had been almost mechanical; yet, after a few instants, I was in a state of the most intense excitement, and without withdrawing my gaze, I reached out and caught Tammy’s arm to attract his attention.
“My God!” I muttered. “Look!”
“What is it?” he asked, and bent over the rail, beside me. And this is what we saw: a little distance below the surface there lay a pale-coloured, slightly-domed disc. It seemed only a few feet down. Below it, we saw quite clearly, after a few moment’s staring, the shadow of a royal-yard, and, deeper, the gear and standing-rigging of a great mast. Far down among the shadows I thought, presently, that I could make out the immense, indefinite stretch of vast decks.
“My God!” whispered Tammy,
and shut up. But presently, he gave out a short exclamation, as though an idea had come to him; and got down off the spar, and ran forward on to the fo’cas’le head. He came running back, after a short look into the sea, to tell me that there was the truck of another great mast coming up there, a bit off the bow, to within a few feet of the surface of the sea.
In the meantime, you know, I had been staring like mad down through the water at the huge, shadowy mast just below me. I had traced out bit by bit, until now I could clearly see the jackstay, running along the top of the royal mast; and, you know, the royal itself was set.
But, you know, what was getting at me more than anything, was a feeling that there was movement down in the water there, among the rigging. I thought I could actually see, at times, things moving and glinting faintly and rapidly to and fro in the gear. And once, I was practically certain that something was on the royal-yard, moving in to the mast; as though, you know, it might have come up the leech of the sail. And this way, I got a beastly feeling that there were things swarming down there.
Unconsciously, I must have leant further and further out over the side, staring; and suddenly—good Lord! how I yelled—I overbalanced. I made a sweeping grab, and caught the fore brace, and with that, I was back in a moment upon the spar. In the same second, almost, it seemed to me that the surface of the water above the submerged truck was broken, and I am sure now, I saw something a moment in the air against the ship’s side—a sort of shadow in the air; though I did not realise it at the time. Anyway, the next instant, Tammy gave out an awful scream, and was head downwards over the rail, in a second. I had an idea then that he was jumping overboard. I collared him by the waist of his britchers, and one knee, and then I had him down on the deck, and sat plump on him; for he was struggling and shouting all the time, and I was so breathless and shaken and gone to mush, I could not have trusted my hands to hold him. You see, I never thought then it was anything but some influence at work on him; and that he was trying to get loose to go over the side. But I know now that I saw the shadow-man that had him. Only, at the time, I was so mixed up, and with the one idea in my head, I was not really able to notice anything, properly. But, afterwards, I comprehended a bit (you can understand, can’t you?) what I had seen at the time without taking in.
The Pirate Story Megapack: 25 Classic and Modern Tales Page 344