CATCHING THE GHOST.
Ben had been inclined to doubt Chloe’s statement regarding the
appearance of a ghost; but now, corroborated as it was by Jake, he
could no longer question it. The cook had gone out specter hunting,
which in itself was sufficient to prove that he did not give full
credence to the old woman’s words, and he had actually found that very
disagreeable thing for which he sought. The boy fancied he could feel a
cold chill in the marrow of his bones, and he was quite sure his hair
was standing up like bristles in a clothes-brush.
“How big was it, Jake?” he asked as he clutched the cook’s hand tightly
lest the horrible thing might come to separate them.
“Well, it wasn’t overly big, lad, an’ that’s a fact. The size don’t
count in sich creeters as that, an’ a little feller is as bad as a
reg’lar giant.”
“But how large was it?”
“I wasn’t so pertec’lar as to measure,” Jake said slowly and in the
most thrilling of whispers; “but as near as I could see before startin’
kinder sudden for the tent, I’d reckon it was as big as a dog. It was
white, with a long tail that stood up straight like the liberty pole on
Marsh’s Common.”
“Don’t you s’pose you could kill it?” Ben asked after another pause,
during which he fancied he heard strange noises in the air.
“Kill a ghost?” Jake repeated as if the mere suggestion of such a thing
filled him with horror. “Don’t you know, lad, that cannon-balls could
go right through them things without hurtin’ ’em a bit?”
Ben had heard of this peculiarity on the part of unearthly visitors,
but was never positive of the fact until at this minute, and the
knowledge made him yet more frightened as well as despondent.
“What _can_ we do, Jake?”
“We’ve got to get outer this place.”
“I don’t see how we shall be able to do that until some vessel comes.”
“We must take to the raft, an’ run our chances among the keys to the
south’ard. If the old woman won’t go with us peaceably, we’ll either
have to leave her, or lash her right down to one of the timbers where
she can’t help herself.”
If anything had been needed to prove that Jake was thoroughly
alarmed by what he had seen, the unfolding of this plan would have
been sufficient. He had spoken very positively several times since
the Simoon struck the reef of the folly of attempting to reach any
inhabited place in a raft that could be neither guided or propelled,
and yet now he was willing and eager to try the experiment, knowing all
the dangers to be encountered.
“When shall we start?” Ben asked faintly.
“One full day’s work will be enough to strengthen our raft so that it
will carry plenty of provisions an’ us four. Then we can leave day
after to-morrow mornin’, an’ sha’n’t have to stay but one more night in
this place where ghosts come right up outer the ground.”
Ben was quite as willing to brave the dangers of the raft, rather than
run the risk of an encounter with the specter, as was the cook, and he
made no objection to the proposed plan.
Neither felt inclined to lie down again while they were surrounded by
so many terrors, and yet it would be hard to walk around all night,
therefore they compromised by sitting in front of the tent, where they
conversed in whispers until both fell into uneasy and uncomfortable
slumber, which was rendered painful by visions of horrible monsters
stalking about in search of shipwrecked people whom they roasted on
red-hot gridirons.
It can easily be imagined that they did not make any attempt to court
sleep next morning. As soon as the first gray light of the coming day
appeared in the sky Jake began to prepare breakfast, and Ben busied
himself with useless work around the camp lest he might be asked to go
to the raft, for he had no desire to wander off by himself while the
ghost made a dwelling-place of their key.
The noise and odor of the cooking soon aroused Gertie and old Chloe,
who could not fail to notice that something was amiss with their
companions, and when they begun to ask questions, Jake told the story
of his too successful search, concluding it by announcing that he was
going away on the raft next morning.
Gertie was alarmed, as a matter of course, and the old woman was
plunged into a state of helpless terror. It was impossible for her to
make any intelligible remark. She crouched on the ground with uplifted
hands and rolling eyes, the very personification of fear, and with a
grayish pallor replacing the usually shining black of her face. Not
once did she attempt any protest against embarking on the raft, and
since she was the only one from whom objections to the plan might be
expected, Jake and Ben looked upon the matter as settled.
As soon as breakfast had been eaten, the entire party went down to the
shore, and the work of making a seaworthy craft out of the hastily
constructed raft was begun, Chloe acting the part of a most interested
spectator, as if eager to escape from the key regardless of the peril
attendant upon the voyage.
It was necessary the workmen should have more material than had been
lashed together when only a substitute for a ferry-boat was needed, and
to this end Ben and Jake pulled out to the brig, bringing back with
them the doors of the cabin and state-rooms, as well as such timbers
as could readily be torn from their fastenings. They also secured a
quantity of rope, a hammer and a few spikes, which made the labor
decidedly lighter.
Jake was unwilling to spend the time necessary for the preparation for
dinner because he thought it more important that they be ready to leave
the key at the earliest possible moment, and old Chloe could not be
persuaded to go back to the tent, so great was her fear that she might
again be confronted by the specter. Ben was willing, though not eager,
to do what he could in the matter of serving the meal, but he was
needed at the beach to assist the chief raft-builder, therefore Gertie
was obliged to play the part of cook.
“I can light a fire and heat the soup,” she said as she started toward
the tent, “and after that has been done I’ll call you.”
“Don’t sing out till everything is ready,” Jake cried by way of
caution, “for we mustn’t waste so much as a single minute.”
“Be keerful ob youseself, honey,” old Chloe said in a trembling voice,
and Gertie went on, trying to appear brave, although she felt decidedly
nervous.
During nearly an hour longer the raft-builders worked industriously,
while the spectator watched every movement, and then the clear voice of
Gertie could be heard summoning the ghost-ridden ones to dinner.
“Hurry up, aunty,” Jake said as he dropped timbers and rope, and came
out of the water in which he had been wading nearly to his knees.
“We’re goin’ to make a short job of the eatin’ business, for I don’t
have any notion of stayin’ in this blessed place more’n one night
longer.”
Old Chloe never moved more quickly than at that moment, when she feared
being left to go alone to the tent. Had Jake walked as rapidly again,
she would probably have succeeded in keeping as close by his side as
she did until they were within sight of Gertie, who was sitting near
the fire fondling some white object.
One glimpse of that which the child held in her arms, and the old
woman shrieked as she threw up her hands and sunk a helpless mass of
quivering flesh on the sand:
“Dar’s de ghos’, an’ it’ll murder dat lubley chile!”
Jake glanced quickly toward the girl, and then suddenly stepped back as
if meditating flight, but in an instant he recovered his composure as
Ben shouted:
“Where _did_ you find that cat, Gertie?”
“It came right up to me while I was getting dinner, and it must have
been most starved to death if the way it ate cold soup is any sign. At
first I thought it was Mammy Chloe’s ghost, and was just ready to run
and scream when I heard it cry. Isn’t she pretty--pure white, with not
a colored hair on her?”
Jake’s confusion was comical in the extreme. He walked slowly toward
Gertie as he examined the animal narrowly, and then turned to look at
the raft as he plunged his hands deep in his pockets and gave vent to a
prolonged whistle. He did not stop to question how a cat came on that
desolate island, for he was thoroughly abashed by the unmistakable
fact that he had run away in fright from a half-starved, harmless
animal, and positively declared that it was a specter. The gleam of
the suffering creature’s eyes he had believed to be fire, and the tail
standing “straight like the liberty-pole on Marsh’s common” had simply
been magnified by his fears.
The cook had no idea of allowing himself to be held up to ridicule by
Ben and Gertie if he could prevent it, therefore he said with more
earnestness than truth:
“When I saw that thing I wasn’t so very certain what it was, but I
thought we’d better get away from here as soon as we could so’s to keep
the old woman quiet. Now she sees it’s only a cat, I hope she won’t be
so foolish.”
Gertie ceased petting the animal long enough to look up at the cook
with a twinkle of mirth in her eyes, but she refrained from making
any remark, and Jake begun to point out to old Chloe the very foolish
mistake she had made, as a means of hiding her own confusion.
It was not an easy matter to convince the negress that she had seen
nothing more terrifying than a cat. After considerable urging she
consented to look at the animal, and then, while admitting there was
a slight resemblance between it and what had so alarmed her, insisted
that it was a veritable ghost which she had met on the day previous.
Jake did not try very hard to induce the old woman to confess she had
made a mistake, for he had been equally foolish, and did not care to
have the fact brought out too prominently. When Chloe positively denied
having transformed a cat into a ghost, he said in a matter-of-fact
tone, and one which was remarkably free from fear, considering how
thoroughly he had been alarmed but a few moments previous:
“Of course the cat looks a good deal like what we saw, but if she says
it ain’t, that settles it, an’ the ghost is still roamin’ ’round the
island. Howsomever, now that Gertie an’ Ben have got over bein’ scared,
I don’t s’pose we’d better be in sich a hurry about leavin’.”
Against this decision old Chloe made no protest, and it was remarked
privately by the younger members of the party that she seemed suddenly
to have lost all fear, which was singular to say the least, if she
was still firmly convinced she had seen and been chased by something
unearthly.
After dinner, during which each of the castaways fed the cat as if she
had rendered some valuable service, no mention was made of the proposed
work on the raft. Jake composed his angular body in the best position
for repose under the shade of a tree, and begun leisurely to smoke as
if there was nothing urgent demanding his attention. Old Chloe bustled
around the camp setting things generally to rights with apparently not
a thought of making a hurried departure, and Gertie and Ben held an
earnest and confidential conversation regarding the events which had
caused so much terror and excitement.
It seemed as if the relief at finding that the ghost was only a large,
half-starved cat was so great that Jake felt it necessary to spend the
remainder of the afternoon in silent thanksgiving, for he did not even
hint that it would be well to pay a visit to the brig before sunset,
and deeply did he regret his indolence when another day dawned.
Just before twilight a supper of turtle-steaks, with plenty of boiled
eggs, was served, and old Chloe evinced her gratitude because of the
“laying of the ghost,” by making an enormous quantity of very strong
tea, which she drank while a look of happiness made her face shine
as if it had been a piece of ebony treated to an unusually vigorous
application of furniture polish.
By the time the meal was finished the little party were glad to seek
the shelter of their tent, for with the setting of the sun the wind
sprang up from the north, and in an instant the warm air gave place to
that which seemed icy cold.
The storm known as “a norther” was upon them, and it was even more
disagreeable than Jake had declared it would be.
Every article which could be used as a covering was brought into
requisition, and, although the shipwrecked ones were completely buried
under the weight of blankets and canvas, they shivered and complained
as if exposed to the fury of an Arctic gale.
The little party suffered quite as much from fear as from the cold, for
as the wind increased in force the tent swayed back and forth until
finally it was lifted entirely from its fastenings and thrown among the
trees, leaving the castaways shelterless in the darkness of the night
exposed to a pitiless storm.