The William Hope Hodgson Megapack

by William Hope Hodgson

  “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 caine 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 half-way 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 the 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 forrard, 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?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “The whole blooming watch went up.”

  “An’ wot ’appened?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all. We just made a mouthful apiece of it, and came down again.”

  “All the same,” remarked the second man, “I don’t fancy goin’ upstairs, after what’s happened.”

  “Well,” I replied. “It’s not a matter of fancy. We’ve got to get the sail off her, or there’ll be a mess. One of the ’prentices told me the glass is falling.”

  “Come erlong, boys. We’ve got ter du it,” said one of the older men, rising from a chest, at this point. “What’s it duin’ outside, mate?”

  “Raining,” I said. “You’ll want your oilskins.”

  I hesitated a moment before going on deck again. From the bunk forrard among the shadows, I had seemed to hear a faint moan.

  “Poor beggar!” I thought to myself.

  Then the old chap who had last spoken, broke in upon my attention.

  “It’s awl right, mate!” he said, rather testily. “Yer needn’t wait. We’ll be out in er minit.”

  “That’s all right. I wasn’t thinking about you lot,” I replied, and walked forrard to Jacobs’s bunk. Some time before, he had rigged up a pair of curtains, cut out of an old sack, to keep off the draught. These, some one had drawn, so that I had to pull them aside to see him. He was lying on his back, breathing in a queer, jerky fashion. I could not see his face, plainly; but it seemed rather pale, in the half-light.

  “Jacobs,” I said. “Jacobs, how do you feel now?” but he made no sign to show that he had heard me. And so, after a few moments, I drew the curtains to again, and left him.

  “What like does ’e seem?” asked one of the fellows, as I went towards the door.

  “Bad,” I said. “Damn bad! I think the Steward ought to be told to come and have a look at him. I’ll mention it to the Second when I get a chance.”

  I stepped out on deck, and ran aft again to give them a hand with the sail. We got it hauled up, and then went forrard to the fore t’gallant. And, a minute later, the other watch were out, and, with the Mate, were busy at the main.

  By the time the main was ready for m
aking fast, we had the fore hauled up, so that now all three t’gallants were in the ropes, and ready for stowing. Then came the order:

  “Up aloft and furl!”

  “Up with you, lads,” the Second Mate said. “Don’t let’s have any hanging back this time.”

  Away aft by the main, the men in the Mate’s watch seemed to be standing in a clump by the mast; but it was too dark to see clearly. I heard the Mate start to curse; then there came a growl, and he shut up.

  “Be handy, men! be handy!” the Second Mate sung out.

  At that, Stubbins jumped into the rigging.

  “Come hon!” he shouted. “We’ll have ther bloomin’ sail fast, an’ down hon deck again before they’re started.”

  Plummer followed; then Jaskett, I, and Quoin who had been called down off the look-out to give a hand.

  “That’s the style, lads!” the Second sung out, encouragingly. Then he ran aft to the Mate’s crowd. I heard him and the Mate talking to the men, and presently, when we were going over the foretop, I made out that they were beginning to get into the rigging.

  I found out, afterwards, that as soon as the Second Mate had seen them off the deck, he went up to the mizzen t’gallant, along with the four ’prentices.

  On our part, we made our way slowly aloft, keeping one hand for ourselves and the other for the ship, as you can fancy. In this manner we had gone as far as the crosstrees, at least, Stubbins, who was first, had; when, all at once, he gave out just another such cry as had the Second Mate a little earlier, only that in his case he followed it by turning round and blasting Plummer.

  “You might have blarsted well sent me flyin’ down hon deck,” he shouted. “If you bl—dy well think it’s a joke, try it hon some one else—”

  “It wasn’t me!” interrupted Plummer. “I ’aven’t touched yer. ’oo the ’ell are yer swearin’ at?”

  “At you—!” I heard him reply; but what more he may have said, was lost in a loud shout from Plummer.

  “What’s up, Plummer?” I sung out. “For God’s sake, you two, don’t get fighting, up aloft!”

  But a loud, frightened curse was all the answer he gave. Then straightway, he began to shout at the top of his voice, and in the lulls of his noise, I caught the voice of Stubbins, cursing savagely.

  “They’ll come down with a run!” I shouted, helplessly. “They’ll come down as sure as nuts.”

  I caught Jaskett by the boot.

  “What are they doing? What are they doing?” I sung out. “Can’t you see?” I shook his leg as I spoke. But at my touch, the old idiot—as I thought him at the moment—began to shout in a frightened voice:

  “Oh! oh! help! hel—!”

  “Shut up!” I bellowed. “Shut up, you old fool. If you won’t do anything, let me get past you.”

  Yet he only cried out the more. And then, abruptly, I caught the sound of a frightened clamour of men’s voices, away down somewhere about the maintop—curses, cries of fear, even shrieks, and above it all, someone shouting to go down on deck:

  “Get down! get down! down! down! Blarst—” The rest was drowned in a fresh outburst of hoarse crying in the night.

  I tried to get past old Jaskett; but he was clinging to the rigging, sprawled on to it, is the best way to describe his attitude, so much of it as I could see in the darkness. Up above him, Stubbins and Plummer still shouted and cursed, and the shrouds quivered and shook, as though the two were fighting desperately.

  Stubbins seemed to be shouting something definite; but whatever it was, I could not catch.

  At my helplessness, I grew angry, and shook and prodded Jaskett, to make him move.

  “Damn you, Jaskett!” I roared. “Damn you for a funky old fool! Let me get past! Let me get past, will you!”

  But, instead of letting me pass, I found that he was beginning to make his way down. At that, I caught him by the slack of his trousers, near the stern, with my right hand, and with the other, I got hold of the after shroud somewhere above his left hip; by these means, I fairly hoisted myself up on to the old fellow’s back. Then, with my right, I could reach to the forrard shroud, over his right shoulder, and having got a grip, I shifted my left to a level with it; at the same moment, I was able to get my foot on to the splice of a ratline and so give myself a further lift. Then I paused an instant, and glanced up.

  “Stubbins! Stubbins!” I shouted. “Plummer! Plummer!”

  And even as I called, Plummer’s foot—reaching down through the gloom—alighted full on my upturned face. I let go from the rigging with my right hand, and struck furiously at his leg, cursing him for his clumsiness. He lifted his foot, and in the same instant a sentence from Stubbins floated down to me, with a strange distinctness:

  “For God’s sake tell ’em to get down hon deck!” he was shouting.

  Even as the words came to me, something in the darkness gripped my waist. I made a desperate clutch at the rigging with my disengaged right hand, and it was well for me that I secured the hold so quickly; for the same instant, I was wrenched at with a brutal ferocity that appalled me. I said nothing, but lashed out into the night with my left foot. It is queer, but I cannot say with certainty that I struck anything; I was too downright desperate with funk, to be sure; and yet it seemed to me that my foot encountered something soft, that gave under the blow. It may have been nothing more than an imagined sensation; yet I am inclined to think otherwise; for, instantly, the hold about my waist was released; and I commenced to scramble down, clutching the shrouds pretty desperately.

  I have only a very uncertain remembrance of that which followed. Whether I slid over Jaskett, or whether he gave way to me, I cannot tell. I know only that I reached the deck, in a blind whirl of fear and excitement, and the next thing I remember, I was among a crowd of shouting, half-mad sailor-men.

  XI

  THE SEARCH FOR STUBBINS

  In a confused way, I was conscious that the Skipper and the Mates were down among us, trying to get us into some state of calmness. Eventually they succeeded, and we were told to go aft to the Saloon door, which we did in a body. Here, the Skipper himself served out a large tot of rum to each of us. Then, at his orders, the Second Mate called the roll.

  He called over the Mate’s watch first, and everyone answered. Then he came to ours, and he must have been much agitated; for the first name he sung out was Jock’s.

  Among us there came a moment of dead silence, and I noticed the wail and moan of the wind aloft, and the flap, flap of the three unfurled t’gallan’s’ls.

  The Second Mate called the next name, hurriedly:

  “Jaskett,” he sung out.

  “Sir,” Jaskett answered.

  “Quoin.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Jessop.”

  “Sir,” I replied.

  “Stubbins.”

  There was no answer.

  “Stubbins,” again called the Second Mate.

  Again there was no reply.

  “Is Stubbins here?—anyone!” The Second’s voice sounded sharp and anxious.

  There was a moment’s pause. Then one of the men spoke:

  “He’s not here, Sir.”

  “Who saw him last?” the Second asked.

  Plummer stepped forward into the light that streamed through the Saloon doorway. He had on neither coat nor cap, and his shirt seemed to be hanging about him in tatters.

  “It were me, Sir,” he said.

  The Old Man, who was standing next to the Second Mate, took a pace towards him, and stopped and stared; but it was the Second who spoke.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “’E were just above me, in ther crosstrees, when, when—” the man broke off short.

  “Yes! yes!” the Second Mate replied. Then he turned to the Skipper.

  “Someone will have to go up, Sir, and see—” He hesitated.

  “But—” said the Old Man, and stopped.

  The Second Mate cut in.

  “I shall go up, for one, Sir,”
he said, quietly.

  Then he turned back to the crowd of us.

  “Tammy,” he sung out. “Get a couple of lamps out of the lamp-locker.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” Tammy replied, and ran off.

  “Now,” said the Second Mate, addressing us. “I want a couple of men to jump aloft along with me and take a look for Stubbins.”

  Not a man replied. I would have liked to step out and offer; but the memory of that horrible clutch was with me, and for the life of me, I could not summon up the courage.

  “Come! come, men!” he said. “We can’t leave him up there. We shall take lanterns. Who’ll come now?”

  I walked out to the front. I was in a horrible funk; but, for very shame, I could not stand back any longer.

  “I’ll come with you, Sir,” I said, not very loud, and feeling fairly twisted up with nervousness.

  “That’s more the tune, Jessop!” he replied, in a tone that made me glad I had stood out.

  At this point, Tammy came up, with the lights. He brought them to the Second, who took one, and told him to give the other to me. The Second Mate held his light above his head, and looked round at the hesitating men.

  “Now, men!” he sung out. “You’re not going to let Jessop and me go up alone. Come along, another one or two of you! Don’t act like a damned lot of cowards!”

  Quoin stood out, and spoke for the crowd.

  “I dunno as we’re actin’ like cowyards, Sir; but just look at ’im,” and he pointed at Plummer, who still stood full in the light from the Saloon doorway.

  “What sort of a Thing is it ’as done that, Sir?” he went on. “An’ then yer arsks us ter go up agen! It aren’t likely as we’re in a ’urry.”

  The Second Mate looked at Plummer, and surely, as I have before mentioned, the poor beggar was in a state; his ripped-up shirt was fairly flapping in the breeze that came through the doorway.

  The Second looked; yet he said nothing. It was as though the realisation of Plummer’s condition had left him without a word more to say. It was Plummer himself who finally broke the silence.

  “I’ll come with yer, Sir,” he said. “Only yer ought ter ’ave more light than them two lanterns. ’Twon’t be no use, unless we ’as plenty er light.”

  The man had grit; and I was astonished at his offering to go, after what he must have gone through. Yet, I was to have even a greater astonishment; for, abruptly, The Skipper—who all this time had scarcely spoken—stepped forward a pace, and put his hand on the Second Mate’s shoulder.