_THE CRUNCHING NOISE ADDED TO THE HORROR OF THE SITUATION_
That ship of the dead was a sad and fearful sight.
So high too was her hull, that it was feared at first that to board her
would be impossible. But one of the sailors, making a knot on the end of
a strong piece of rope, threw it up over the bulwarks, and after many
unsuccessful attempts, succeeded in making it stick to something. Then
he shinned up and made the end perfectly secure to an iron, but rusty,
belaying pin. Antonio and Barclay both swarmed up hand over hand, till
they caught the seaman’s hand and alighted safely on the deck.
As our heroes were drawing near to the derelict in the boat, and as she
gently swung to and fro to the scud of the seas, they were surprised to
see the whole of the hull, nearly as high up as the bulwarks, covered
with grey gulf weed and bivalve shells. The seaweed had been originally
brown, but was now incrusted with a species of marine lichen, and the
deck itself was slimy and green, so that it was difficult indeed to walk
upon it, and both Antonio and Barclay looked about them in a kind of
bewildered way. But they soon recovered, and commenced to explore. They
first cast their eyes aloft. The lower masts were still standing, and
solid strong timber they looked; the lower rigging also, but yard-arms
there were none; the jibboom and even a portion of the bowsprit were
gone, and the bulwarks forward were sadly rent and torn.
Just behind the windlass were two bundles of what appeared at first to
be seaweed covered with lichen. A boathook was procured, and the bundles
were stirred up.
They dropped in pieces, rattling down on the deck in separate bones, for
skeletons indeed they were.
This was a sickening and horrible discovery. Near them lay what seemed
the skeleton of a dog.
But more horrors were to come, for diving cautiously now down the
fore-hold, they found three more skeletons near the galley and
cooking-range. They too were green and slimy, and the odour that
pervaded these ’tween decks was so fœtid and horrible, that our heroes
were glad to find themselves on deck once more.
So slippery was the ladder, that it was difficult indeed to ascend it.
Slowly now, and with hearts that were inexpressibly sad, they made their
way aft and down below to the cabin or saloon. They had first taken the
precaution to burst open the skylight and wait for a time. It was well
they did so, for the emanating odour was sickening in the extreme.
The sight that met their eyes when at last they entered the saloon was
one that would have appalled hearts less stout and brave.
On the deck lay the skeleton of a man, with a rusty revolver not far
off. There was a hole in the skull right behind, so that it was evident
he had not died by his own hand.
On a half-rotten and slimy sofa lay another skeleton, and, horrible to
relate, the shaft of a dagger or knife still protruded from the ribs on
the left side. But the bony hand and arm that had held that knife lay by
the side of mortal remains.
“A certain case of suicide,” said Antonio, and his voice sounded hollow
and uncanny in this awful saloon.
Determined to elucidate the mystery if possible, Antonio, followed by
Barclay, made his way to what seemed the chief state-room--no doubt the
skipper’s.
As he walked across the deck towards it, small loathsome-looking brown
crabs went scuttling across and hid in the darkest corners. Some were
unwittingly crushed under foot, and the crunching noise added to the
horror of the situation.
With the boathook Antonio dashed open the saloon door; then all three
men retreated till the foul air escaped.
In doing so Barclay kicked a hassock or footstool. It fell in pieces,
and all started back with a feeling of fear and dread, for out from the
débris wriggled two snakes, or water-serpents, of a kind not uncommon on
sandbanks in the Indian Ocean. The creatures made a dash for the
companion-ladder, up which they threw themselves in a remarkable manner.
The men in the boat alongside were startled to see the snakes leap from
the scupper-holes of the derelict and dive into the sea.
Everything was rotten, slimy, and ghastly in this stateroom. There were
curtains on the bed which gave way at a touch; the mattress and
bedclothes fell to pieces when stirred with the boathook, clothes hung
on the wall, but fell to the deck when Antonio entered.
But here in the corner was a safe. The door was shut but not locked, and
as Barclay swung it open he found therein gold, watches, and a
chronometer. These they took possession of. There was also a ship’s log,
but all the first portions of it and its top cover were decayed and
rotten.
It was only the last few pages that were decipherable, and much to
Antonio’s disappointment, when he took the book carefully out and placed
it on the table, he found that it gave no clue to the name of the ship,
her port of departure, nor her destination.
But it told briefly and irregularly of the last terrible sufferings of
the crew.
The hand that wrote these lines must have been weak and quivering, the
head of the writer congested, if not delirious.
The lines, too, and sentences were strangely disconnected and rambling.
I give but a portion of them.
“The last writings of Ben Meredith of Lark Cove, Mass., U.S.A.
“If found--to my wife or beloved father, both of that territory--twenty
days out, fearful weather, decks swept, topmasts carried away--middle of
night awful collision, carried away figure-head and jibboom, and
shattered bowsprit and bulwarks--drifting for weeks a hopeless--half the
crew stole boats and went away we know not whither. Took the great Sea
of Gulf-Weed. Misery untold, and no hopes of ever getting clear. Water
lasted, but food ran out--living on seaweed and rats--few fish
caught--men down with fever--I and mate last of--terrible sufferings.
Think am mad--killed boy and ate him--this ends all, and to-night we
die. Mate will shoot me, then kill himself--I shall not know the hour I
am to be shot--this has been agreed upon, and ’tis better thus--Heaven
forgive us, but we are mad--mad--mad!”
There was more of this rambling, but it was not decipherable. But those
two skeletons revealed this secret of the sea.
Long, long years ago the men had gone to their account, and He who knew
their terrible sufferings and temptations would judge them mercifully
and righteously.
* * * * *
There was little good to be wrought by staying longer on board this
awful slimy derelict ship, so full of loathsome things that crept or
crawled, so full of death and mystery.
After two days and a night of struggling with the weeds, glad enough
were our mariners to get back to their own ship.
She was not yet overgrown with weeds, for men were lowered over the side
almost every week to keep her clean.
* * * * *
Almost every day now the whaler with its “weed-plough,” as the sailors
called it, was lowered, and Barclay and Davie with a sturdy crew would
penetrate as far through the Sargasso Sea as it was safe to go with the
certainty of returning before nightfall.
As often as not Teenie went with them. They had a double object in view
in making these little cruises--the study of natural history, with the
collection of curios, and the catching of fish to help to fill the
larder.
Some of these fish, mostly small, lived and dwelt in or near the surface
among the long, dark, floating weed. At times they could be found in
shining silvery shoals, so dense that they could be taken on board with
a landing-net. These were a species of large anchovy or sardine, and
evidently did not belong to the Sargasso Sea itself, for, strange to
say, the crabs that ran about and over the weeds, the shell-fish that
clung to them, all the crustacea, molluscs, hydroids, polyzoa, and
annelides were dark-brown like the weeds themselves, and sometimes
almost black. Black though they were, the crabs proved to be most
delightful eating; so too did many of the fishes caught, but others
were so frightfully ugly as to look like sea-demons, and were thrown
overboard; so too were some most beautiful flat fish, striped with deep
crimson, yellow, and green.
These were called “tartan fish” by the men, and declared to be far too
pretty to eat, and probably poisonous.
Occasionally the exploring boat came across a portion of seaweed that
seemed alive with wriggling serpents. Most of these horrid reptiles,
none of which were over three feet long, had short rudimentary legs near
the head and far aft towards the tail. One or two found their way on
board in the landing-net, and so diabolical was their appearance as they
wriggled and hissed, that Teenie was frightened almost into fits.
Then Barclay would drop the landing-net overboard, and taking the child
on his knee, soothe and pet her till she fell asleep.
Some of the worm-like annelides grew to immense size here in this
wondrous sea, so much so, that they might have been mistaken for snakes.
Specimens of each sort were collected by the boys.
But there was a kind of annelide that the boys did not dare to catch on
the days when Teenie was a passenger. It was called the sea-centiped,
and its bite was supposed to be fatal. It was not unlike the centiped
that often appears on board ship in cases when green wood has been taken
on board, only infinitely bigger, and quicker in movement.
One day a sea-centiped ran up Barclay’s sleeve; it was longer than a
penholder. The lad was in his shirt sleeves luckily, and probably the
dreadful creature was as frightened as the boy was; indeed, he was
deadly pale. Davie Drake and Pandoo came to his rescue. Commanding him
not to move an inch, they pulled his shirt over head and shoulders, and
gradually and cautiously down his arm till the terrible centiped was
revealed. All its awful legs were pinching poor Barclay’s skin, and the
creature, which had hooks beneath its head, was moving its mandibles
horizontally in the most threatening manner, while fire appeared to
flash from its eyes. Pandoo placed a handkerchief round the boy’s arm
above the elbow-joint, retaining both ends in his hand.
Then all had to wait what appeared an interminable time.
But slowly at last the creature advanced, though pausing oft, and
finally crawled on to the handkerchief. Then with a quick jerk Pandoo
threw it off into the sea.
Barclay had behaved all the time with great fortitude, but, strangely
enough, now that the danger was over he fainted dead away.
A more beautiful, but not dangerous, annelide was found among the
seaweed, plentiful enough in some places only. In plain English--for I
am sure you do not wish to be bothered with its classical title--it is
called the sea-mouse. The creatures were nine inches long and nearly
four in breadth, and were the only living things found among the
seaweed that were not brown or black.
The strange annelide finds its food among the weeds, and is covered with
a kind of down. Above this are many rows of bristles in bunches, that
shine and glitter with all the colours of a lovely rainbow.
Many of these were caught and preserved, but to Barclay’s disgust the
beautiful colours all faded away. It is thus with many of the lovely
creatures one finds in the seas of far-off foreign lands, as I have
known often to my sorrow. Hand-painted by Nature they seem to be, and
the colours are durable until death, but then they fade away.