Complete Works of William Hope Hodgson

by Hodgson, William Hope

  “And so I grow wearied of writing. The night is drawing near, and I have little more to tell. I am writing this in the saloon, and, though I have mended and carpentered so well as I am able, nothing I can do will hide the traces of that night when the vast crabs raided through these cabins, searching for — what?

  “There is nothing more to say. In health, I am well, and so is my wife and the little one, but….

  “I must have myself under control, and be patient. We are beyond all help, and must bear that which is before us, with such bravery as we are able. And with this, I end; for my last word shall not be one of complaint.

  “ARTHUR SAMUEL PHILIPS.”

  “Christmas Eve, 1879.”

  THE MYSTERY OF THE DERELICT

  All the night had the four-masted ship, Tarawak, lain motionless in the drift of the Gulf Stream; for she had run into a “calm patch” — into a stark calm which had lasted now for two days and nights.

  On every side, had it been light, might have been seen dense masses of floating gulf-weed, studding the ocean even to the distant horizon. In places, so large were the weed-masses that they formed long, low banks, that, by daylight, might have been mistaken for low-lying land.

  Upon the lee side of the poop, Duthie, one of the ‘prentices, leaned with his elbows upon the rail, and stared out across the hidden sea, to where in the Eastern horizon showed the first pink and lemon streamers of the dawn — faint, delicate streaks and washes of colour.

  A period of time passed, and the surface of the leeward sea began to show — a great expanse of grey, touched with odd, wavering belts of silver. And everywhere the black specks and islets of the weed.

  Presently, the red dome of the sun protruded itself into sight above the dark rim of the horizon; and, abruptly, the watching Duthie saw something — a great, shapeless bulk that lay some miles away to starboard, and showed black and distinct against the gloomy red mass of the rising sun.

  “Something in sight to looard, Sir,” he informed the Mate, who was leaning, smoking, over the rail that ran across the break of the poop. “I can’t just make out what it is.”

  The Mate rose from his easy position, stretched himself, yawned, and came across to the boy.

  “Whereabouts, Toby?” he asked, wearily, and yawning again.

  “There, Sir,” said Duthie — alias Toby— “broad away on the beam, and right in the track of the sun. It looks something like a big houseboat, or a haystack.”

  The Mate stared in the direction indicated, and saw the thing which puzzled the boy, and immediately the tiredness went out of his eyes and face.

  “Pass me the glasses off the skylight, Toby,” he commanded, and the youth obeyed.

  After the Mate had examined the strange object through his binoculars for, maybe, a minute, he passed them to Toby, telling him to take a “squint,” and say what he made of it.

  “Looks like an old powder-hulk, Sir,” exclaimed the lad, after a while, and to this description the Mate nodded agreement.

  Later, when the sun had risen somewhat, they were able to study the derelict with more exactness. She appeared to be a vessel of an exceedingly old type, mastless, and upon the hull of which had been built a roof-like superstructure; the use of which they could not determine. She was lying just within the borders of one of the weedbanks, and all her side was splotched with a greenish growth.

  It was her position, within the borders of the weed, that suggested to the puzzled Mate, how so strange and unseaworthy looking a craft had come so far abroad into the greatness of the ocean. For, suddenly, it occurred to him that she was neither more nor less than a derelict from the vast Sargasso Sea — a vessel that had, possibly, been lost to the world, scores and scores of years gone, perhaps hundreds. The suggestion touched the Mate’s thoughts with solemnity, and he fell to examining the ancient hulk with an even greater interest, and pondering on all the lonesome and awful years that must have passed over her, as she had lain desolate and forgotten in that grim cemetery of the ocean.

  Through all that day, the derelict was an object of the most intense interest to those aboard the Tarawak, every glass in the ship being brought into use to examine her. Yet, though within no more than some six or seven miles of her, the Captain refused to listen to the Mate’s suggestions that they should put a boat into the water, and pay the stranger a visit; for he was a cautious man, and the glass warned him that a sudden change might be expected in the weather; so that he would have no one leave the ship on any unnecessary business. But, for all that he had caution, curiosity was by no means lacking in him, and his telescope, at intervals, was turned on the ancient hulk through all the day.

  Then, it would be about six bells in the second dog watch, a sail was sighted astern, coming up steadily but slowly. By eight bells they were able to make out that a small barque was bringing the wind with her; her yards squared, and every stitch set. Yet the night had advanced apace, and it was nigh to eleven o’clock before the wind reached those aboard the Tarawak. When at last it arrived, there was a slight rustling and quaking of canvas, and odd creaks here and there in the darkness amid the gear, as each portion of the running and standing rigging took up the strain.

  Beneath the bows, and alongside, there came gentle rippling noises, as the vessel gathered way; and so, for the better part of the next hour, they slid through the water at something less than a couple of knots in the sixty minutes.

  To starboard of them, they could see the red light of the little barque, which had brought up the wind with her, and was now forging slowly ahead, being better able evidently than the big, heavy Tarawak to take advantage of so slight a breeze.

  About a quarter to twelve, just after the relieving watch had been roused, lights were observed to be moving to and fro upon the small barque, and by midnight it was palpable that, through some cause or other, she was dropping astern.

  When the Mate arrived on deck to relieve the Second, the latter officer informed him of the possibility that something unusual had occurred aboard the barque, telling of the lights about her decks, and how that, in the last quarter of an hour, she had begun to drop astern.

  On hearing the Second Mate’s account, the First sent one of the ‘prentices for his night-glasses, and, when they were brought, studied the other vessel intently, that is, so well as he was able through the darkness; for, even through the night-glasses, she showed only as a vague shape, surmounted by the three dim towers of her masts and sails.

  Suddenly, the Mate gave out a sharp exclamation; for, beyond the barque, there was something else shown dimly in the field of vision. He studied it with great intentness, ignoring for the instant, the Second’s queries as to what it was that had caused him to exclaim.

  All at once, he said, with a little note of excitement in his voice: —

  “The derelict! The barque’s run into the weed around that old hooker!”

  The Second Mate gave a mutter of surprised assent, and slapped the rail.

  “That’s it!” he said. “That’s why we’re passing her. And that explains the lights. If they’re not fast in the weed, they’ve probably run slap into the blessed derelict!”

  “One thing,” said the Mate, lowering his glasses, and beginning to fumble for his pipe, “she won’t have had enough way on her to do much damage.”

  The Second Mate, who was still peering through his binoculars, murmured an absent agreement, and continued to peer. The Mate, for his part, filled and lit his pipe, remarking meanwhile to the unhearing Second, that the light breeze was dropping.

  Abruptly, the Second Mate called his superior’s attention, and in the same instant, so it seemed, the failing wind died entirely away, the sails settling down into runkles, with little rustles and flutters of sagging canvas.

  “What’s up?” asked the Mate, and raised his glasses.

  “There’s something queer going on over yonder,” said the Second. “Look at the lights moving about, and — Did you see that?”

  The la
st portion of his remark came out swiftly, with a sharp accentuation of the last word.

  “What?” asked the Mate, staring hard.

  “They’re shooting,” replied the Second. “Look! There again!”

  “Rubbish!” said the Mate, a mixture of unbelief and doubt in his voice.

  With the falling of the wind, there had come a great silence upon the sea. And, abruptly, from far across the water, sounded the distant, dullish thud of a gun, followed almost instantly by several minute, but sharply defined, reports, like the cracking of a whip out in the darkness.

  “Jove!” cried the Mate, “I believe you’re right.” He paused and stared. “There!” he said. “I saw the flashes then. They’re firing from the poop, I believe…. I must call the Old Man.” He turned and ran hastily down into the saloon, knocked on the door of the Captain’s cabin, and entered. He turned up the lamp, and, shaking his superior into wakefulness, told him of the thing he believed to be happening aboard the barque: —

  “It’s mutiny, Sir; they’re shooting from the poop. We ought to do something—” The Mate said many things, breathlessly; for he was a young man; but the Captain stopped him, with a quietly lifted hand.

  “I’ll be up with you in a minute, Mr. Johnson,” he said, and the Mate took the hint, and ran up on deck.

  Before the minute had passed, the Skipper was on the poop, and staring through his night-glasses at the barque and the derelict. Yet now, aboard of the barque, the lights had vanished, and there showed no more the flashes of discharging weapons — only there remained the dull, steady red glow of the port sidelight; and, behind it, the night-glasses showed the shadowy outline of the vessel.

  The Captain put questions to the Mates, asking for further details.

  “It all stopped while the Mate was calling you, Sir,” explained the Second. “We could hear the shots quite plainly.”

  They seemed to be using a gun as well as their revolvers,” interjected the Mate, without ceasing to stare into the darkness.

  For a while the three of them continued to discuss the matter, whilst down on the main-deck the two watches clustered along the starboard rail, and a low hum of talk rose, fore and aft.

  Presently, the Captain and the Mates came to a decision. If there had been a mutiny, it had been brought to its conclusion, whatever that conclusion might be, and no interference from those aboard the Tarawak, at that period, would be likely to do good. They were utterly in the dark — in more ways than one — and, for all they knew, there might not even have been any mutiny. If there had been a mutiny, and the mutineers had won, then they had done their worst; whilst if the officers had won, well and good. They had managed to do so without help. Of course, if the Tayawak had been a man-of-war with a large crew, capable of mastering any situation, it would have been a simple matter to send a powerful, armed boat’s crew to inquire; but as she was merely a merchant vessel, undermanned, as is the modern fashion, they must go warily. They would wait for the morning, and signal. In a couple of hours it would be light. Then they would be guided by circumstances.

  The Mate walked to the break of the poop, and sang out to the men: —

  “Now then, my lads, you’d better turn in, the watch below, and have a sleep; we may be wanting you by five bells.”

  There was a muttered chorus of “Aye, Aye, Sir,” and some of the men began to go forrard to the fo’cas’le; but others of the watch below remained, their curiosity overmastering their desire for sleep.

  On the poop, the three officers leaned over the starboard rail, chatting in a desultory fashion, as they waited for the dawn. At some little distance hovered Duthie, who, as eldest ‘prentice just out of his time, had been given the post of acting Third Mate.

  Presently, the sky to starboard began to lighten with the solemn coming of the dawn. The light grew and strengthened, and the eyes of those in the Tayawak scanned with growing intentness that portion of the horizon where showed the red and dwindling glow of the barque’s sidelight.

  Then, it was in that moment when all the world is full of the silence of the dawn, something passed over the quiet sea, coming out of the East — a very faint, long-drawn-out, screaming, piping noise. It might almost have been the cry of a little wind wandering out of the dawn across the sea — a ghostly, piping skirl, so attenuated and elusive was it; but there was in it a weird, almost threatening note, that told the three on the poop it was no wind that made so dree and inhuman a sound.

  The noise ceased, dying out in an indefinite, mosquito-like shrilling, far and vague and minutely shrill. And so came the silence again.

  “I heard that, last night, when they were shooting,” said the Second Mate, speaking very slowly, and looking first at the Skipper and then at the Mate. “It was when you were below, calling the Captain,” he added.

  “Ssh!” said the Mate, and held up a warning hand; but though they listened, there came no further sound; and so they fell to disjointed questionings, and guessed their answers, as puzzled men will. And ever and anon, they examined the barque through their glasses; but without discovering anything of note, save that, when the light grew stronger, they perceived that her jibboom had struck through the superstructure of the derelict, tearing a considerable gap therein.

  Presently, when the day had sufficiently advanced, the Mate sung out to the Third, to take a couple of the ‘prentices, and pass up the signal flags and the code book. This was done, and a “hoist” made; but those in the barque took not the slightest heed; so that finally the Captain bade them make up the flags and return them to the locker.

  After that, he went down to consult the glass, and when he reappeared, he and the Mates had a short discussion, after which, orders were given to hoist out the starboard life-boat. This, in the course of half an hour, they managed; and, after that, six of the men and two of the ‘prentices were ordered into her.

  Then half a dozen rifles were passed down, with ammunition, and the same number of cutlasses. These were all apportioned among the men, much to the disgust of the two apprentices, who were aggrieved that they should be passed over; but their feelings altered when the Mate descended into the boat, and handed them each a loaded revolver, warning them, however, to play no “monkey tricks” with the weapons.

  Just as the boat was about to push off, Duthie, the eldest ‘prentice, came scrambling down the side ladder, and jumped for the after thwart. He landed, and sat down, laying the rifle which he had brought, in the stern; and, after that, the boat put off for the barque.

  There were now ten in the boat, and all well armed, so that the Mate had a certain feeling of comfort that he would be able to meet any situation that was likely to arise.

  After nearly an hour’s hard pulling, the heavy boat had been brought within some two hundred yards of the barque, and the Mate sung out to the men to lie on their oars for a minute. Then he stood up and shouted to the people on the barque; but though he repeated his cry of “Ship ahoy!” several times, there came no reply.

  He sat down, and motioned to the men to give way again, and so brought the boat nearer the barque by another hundred yards. Here, he hailed again; but still receiving no reply, he stooped for his binoculars, and peered for a while through them at the two vessels — the ancient derelict, and the modern sailing-vessel.

  The latter had driven clean in over the weed, her stern being perhaps some two score yards from the edge of the bank. Her jibboom, as I have already mentioned, had pierced the green-blotched superstructure of the derelict, so that her cutwater had come very close to the grass-grown side of the hulk.

  That the derelict was indeed a very ancient vessel, it was now easy to see; for at this distance the Mate could distinguish which was hull, and which superstructure. Her stern rose up to a height considerably above her bows, and possessed galleries, coming round the counter. In the window frames some of the glass still remained; but others were securely shuttered, and some missing, frames and all, leaving dark holes in the stern. And everywhere grew the dan
k, green growth, giving to the beholder a queer sense of repulsion. Indeed, there was that about the whole of the ancient craft, that repelled in a curious way — something elusive — a remoteness from humanity, that was vaguely abominable.

  The Mate put down his binoculars, and drew his revolver, and, at the action, each one in the boat gave an instinctive glance to his own weapon. Then he sung out to them to give-way, and steered straight for the weed. The boat struck it, with something of a sog; and, after that, they advanced slowly, yard by yard, only with considerable labour.

  They reached the counter of the barque, and the Mate held out his hand for an oar. This, he leaned up against the side of the vessel, and a moment later was swarming quickly up it. He grasped the rail, and swung himself aboard; then, after a swift glance fore and aft, gripped the blade of the oar, to steady it, and bade the rest follow as quickly as possible, which they did, the last man bringing up the painter with him, and making it fast to a cleat.

  Then commenced a rapid search through the ship. In several places about the main-deck they found broken lamps, and aft on the poop, a shotgun, three revolvers, and several capstan-bars lying about the poop-deck. But though they pried into every possible corner, lifting the hatches, and examining the lazaretto, not a human creature was to be found — the barque was absolutely deserted.

  After the first rapid search, the Mate called his men together; for there was an uncomfortable sense of danger in the air, and he felt that it would be better not to straggle. Then, he led the way forrard, and went up on to the t’gallant fo’cas’le head. Here, finding the port sidelight still burning, he bent over the screen, as it were mechanically, lifted the lamp, opened it, and blew out the flame; then replaced the affair on its socket.

  After that, he climbed into the bows, and out along the jibboom, beckoning to the others to follow, which they did, no man saying a word, and all holding their weapons handily; for each felt the oppressiveness of the Incomprehensible about them.