Morgan's ghost, disappeared, and was never heard of afterwards. As
the chest of clothes inherited from his deceased messmate was found
entirely empty, it might have been surmised that Tom had deserted,
had not a sailor, who was on the watch, solemnly declared that he saw
the ghost of Billy Morgan jump overboard with him in a flame of fire,
and that he hissed like a red-hot ploughshare in the water. After
this bold feat, the spectre appeared no more. The squadron remained
some time at Syracuse, and various adventures befell the officers
and crews, which those remaining alive tell of to this day. How
Macdonough, then a madcap midshipman, “licked” the high constable of
the town; how Burroughs quizzed the governor; what rows they kicked
up at masquerades; what a dust they raised among the antiquities; and
what wonders they whispered in the ear of Dionysius. From thence, they
again sailed on a cruise, and after teaching the Bey of Tripoli a new
way of paying tribute, and laying the foundation of that structure
of imperishable glory which shall one day reach the highest heaven,
returned home, after an absence of between two and three years. The
crew of the frigate were paid off and discharged, and it is on record,
as a wonder, that their three years' pay lasted some of them nearly
three days. But though we believe in the ghost of Billy Morgan, we
can scarcely credit this incredible wonder. Certain it is, that not a
man of them ever doubted for a moment the reality of the spectre, or
would have hesitated to make oath of having seen it more than once.
Even Captain R———— spoke of it on his return, as one of those strange,
inscrutable things, which baffle the efforts of human ingenuity, and
seem to justify the most extraordinary relations of past and present
times. His understanding revolted at the absurdity of a great part of
the wonders ascribed to Billy Morgan's ghost; but some of the facts
were so well attested, that a painful doubt would often pass over his
mind, and dispose it to the reception of superstitious impressions.
He remained in this state of mixed skepticism and credulity, when, some
years after his return from the Mediterranean, being on a journey to
the westward, he had occasion to halt at a log house, on the borders
of the Tennessee, for refreshment. A man came forth to receive him,
whom he at once recognised as his old acquaintance, Billy Morgan.
“Heavens!” thought Captain R————, “here's Monsieur Tonson come again!”
Billy, who had also found out who his guest was, when too late to
retreat, looked rather sheepish, and invited him in with little of the
frank hospitality characteristic of a genuine backwoodsman. Captain
R—— followed him into the house, where he found a comely good-natured
dame, and two or three yellow-haired boys and girls, all in a fluster
at the stranger. The house had an air of comfort, and the mistress, by
her stirring activity, accompanied with smiling looks withal, seemed
pleased at the rare incident of a stranger's entering their door.
Bill Morgan was at first rather shy and awkward. But finding Captain
R—— treated him with good-humoured frankness, he, in the course of
the evening, when the children were gone to bed, and the wife busy in
milking the cows, took occasion to accost his old commander.
“Captain, I hope you don't mean to shoot me for a deserter?”
“By no means,” said the captain, smiling; “there would be little use in
shooting a ghost, or a man with as many lives as a cat.”
Billy Morgan smiled rather a melancholy smile. “Ah! captain, you have
not forgot the ghost, I see. But it is a long time to remember an old
score, and I hope you'll forgive me.”
“On one condition I will,” replied Captain R————; “that you tell me
honestly how you managed to make all my sailors believe they saw you,
night after night, on board the ship as well as on shore.”
“They did see me,” replied Billy, in his usual sepulchral voice.
The captain began to be in some doubt whether he was talking to Billy
Morgan or his ghost.
“You don't pretend to say you were really on board my vessel all the
time?”
“No, not all the time, only at such times as the sailors saw me—except
previous to our arrival at Gibraltar.”
“Then their seeing you jump overboard was all a deception.”
“By no means, sir; I did jump overboard—but then I climbed back again,
directly after.”
“The deuse you did—explain.”
“I will, sir, as well as I am able. I was many years among the Sandwich
Islanders, where the vessel in which I was a cabin boy was wrecked,
a long time ago, and I can pass whole hours, I believe days, in the
water, without being fatigued, except for want of sleep. I have also
got some of their other habits, such as a great dislike to hard work,
and a liking for going where I will, and doing just what I please. The
discipline of a man-of-war did not suit me at all, and I grew tired
after a few days. To pass the time, and to make fun for myself with the
sailors, I told them stories of my adventures, and pretended that I
could live in the water, and had as many lives as a cat. Besides this,
as you know, I played them many other pranks, partly for amusement, and
partly from a kind of pride I felt in making them believe I was half
a wizard. The punishment you gave me, though I own I deserved it, put
me out of all patience, and I made up my mind to desert the very first
opportunity. I had an old shipmate with me, whom I could trust, and we
planned the whole thing together. I knew if I deserted at Gibraltar,
or any of the ports of the Mediterranean, I should almost certainly be
caught, and shot as an example; and for this reason we settled that
I should jump overboard, return again, and hide myself in a coil of
cable which was stowed away between decks, close to the bows, where
it was dark even in the daytime. My messmate procured a piece of old
canvass, with which I might cover myself if necessary. To make my
jumping overboard have a greater effect on the crew, and to provide
against accidents until the ship arrived at Gibraltar, I took care to
fill my tobacco box with tobacco, my pockets with biscuits, and to
sling a canteen of water round my neck, as I told them perhaps I might
take it into my head not to go to the bottom for two or three days. I
got Tom Brown to write my will, intending to leave my watch and chest
to my messmate, who was to return them to me at Gibraltar, the first
chance he could get. But Tom played us a trick, and put his own name in
place of my friend's. Neither he nor I were any great scholars, and the
trick was not found out till afterwards, when my friend was afraid of
discovery, if he made any rout about the matter.”
“Who was your friend?” asked Captain R————.
“He is still alive, and in service. I had rather not mention his name.”
“Very well,” replied Captain R————, “go on.”
“That night I jumped overboard.”
“How did you get back into the ship?” asked the captain, hastily.
“Why, sir, the forward porthole, on the starboard side, was left open,
with a bit of rope fastened to the gun, and hanging down so that I
could catch it.”
The captain struck his forehead with the palm of his hand, and said to
himself,
“What a set of blockheads we were!”
“Not so great as might have been expected,” said honest Billy Morgan,
intending to compliment the captain; but it sounded directly the
contrary.
“As soon as I had jumped overboard I swam to the rope, which I held
fast, waiting the signal from my friend to climb up and hide myself in
the coil of cable. In the bustle which followed it was easy enough to
do this, and nobody saw me but my friend. Here I remained in my wet
clothes, rather uncomfortably, as you may suppose, until my provision
and water were expended, and my tobacco box empty. I calculated they
would last till we arrived at Gibraltar, when nothing would have
been easier for me than to jump out of the porthole and swim ashore.
But the plaguy head winds and calms, which I dare say you remember,
delayed the squadron several days longer than I expected, and left me
without supply. I could have gone without biscuit and water, but it
was impossible to live without tobacco. My friend had promised to come
near enough to hear signals of distress sometimes, but, as he told me
afterwards, he was confined several days for picking a quarrel with Tom
Brown, whom he longed to flog for forging the will.
“I remained in this state until I was nearly starved, when, not being
able to stand it any longer, I one night, when everybody between decks
seemed fast asleep, crept out from my hiding place, where I was coiled
up in the shape of a cable, and finding a pitcher of water, took a
hearty drink out of it. This was as far as I dared go at that time,
so I went back again as quietly as possible. But I was too hungry to
remain quiet, though among the Sandwich Islanders I had been used to go
without eating for days at a time. The next night I crept out again,
and was lucky enough to get a pretty good supply of provisions, which
happened to be left by some accident in the way. Two or three times I
heard search making for me, and was very much frightened lest I should
be found out in my hole.”
“How was it possible for the blockheads to miss you?” asked Captain
R————.
“Why, sir, they did come to the cable tier where I was, but I believe
they were too much frightened to look into it, or could not see me in
the dark hole. They did not lift the canvass that covered me either
of the times they came. The night I found the officer on the watch,
I gave myself up for gone; but as luck would have it, my friend was
now out of limbo, and always took care to examine the coil of cable so
carefully, that nobody thought of looking into it after him. When we
arrived at the bay of Algesiras, I took an opportunity to frighten Tom
Brown a little, by visiting him in the night and bidding him good-by,
after which I slipped quietly out of the porthole, and swam ashore,
while my friend pulled up the rope and shut the port after me as usual.”
“But how did you manage to escape from the search made by the police at
Algesiras?”
“Oh, sir! I was on board the frigate all the time in my old hiding
place.”
“And when the ship was searched directly after?”
“I was ashore at that time.”
“And how did you manage at Malta?”
“The landlord was my sworn brother, and wouldn't have blabbed for a
thousand pounds.”
“And the capers on the yardarm and topgallant, the visits paid to Tom
Brown at Syracuse, and the wonderful stories told by the sailors of
being robbed of their tobacco, getting tipsy upon nothing, and being
led astray by nobody? What do you say to all this, Mr. Ghost?” said the
captain, smiling.
“I never paid but two visits to the ship, so far is I remember, sir,
after she left Malta. One was the night I wanted to talk with Tom
Brown, the other when he disappeared the night afterwards. The rest of
the stories were all owing to the jokes of some of the sailors, and the
fears of the others.”
“But you are sure you did not jump into the sea with Tom Brown, in a
flame of fire?”
“Yes, sir, as I am an honest man. Tom got away without any help of
mine, and without my ever knowing how, until a long time afterwards,
when I accidentally met him at Liverpool.”
“Well?”
“He was not to be convinced I was living, but ran away as hard as he
could, and to this day believes in ghosts as much as he does in his
being alive himself.”
“So far all is clear enough,” said Captain R————; “but what could
possibly induce you to put yourself in the way of being caught after
escaping, by visiting the ship and letting yourself be seen?”
“I wanted to see Tom Brown, sir.”
“Why so?”
“I wanted to get back my watch and clothes from him.”
“Oh! I see it now. But had you no other object?”
“Why, I'll tell you, sir; besides that, I had a sort of foolish pride,
all my life, in frightening people, and making them wonder at me, by
telling tough stories, or doing strange things. I haven't got over it
to this day, and have been well beaten two or three times, besides
being put in jail, for playing the ghost hereabout, with the country
people, at court time. I confess too, sir, that I have once or twice
frightened my wife almost into fits, by way of a frolic; and for all
the trouble it has brought upon me, I believe in my soul I shall play
the ghost till I give up the ghost at last. Besides this, the truth is,
sir, I had a little spite at you for having put me in the bilboes for
some of these pranks, as I deserved, and had no objection to pay you
off, by breeding trouble in the ship.”
“Truly, you succeeded wonderfully; but what became of you afterwards?”
“Why, sir, after Tom Brown deserted, and, to quiet his conscience, left
my watch and clothes to my friend, I had no motive for playing the
ghost any more. I shipped in an American merchantman for Smyrna—from
thence I went to Gibraltar—and after voyaging a year or two, and saving
a few hundred dollars, came to Boston at last. I did not dare to stay
along shore, for fear of being known by some of the officers of the
squadron, so I took my money and my bundle and went into the back
country. I am a little of everything, a jack of all trades, and turned
farmer, as sea captains often do when they are tired of ploughing the
ocean. I get on pretty well now, and hope you won't have me shot by a
court martial.”
“No,” replied Captain R————, “I am out of the navy now. I have turned
farmer too, and you are quite safe.”
“I hope you prosper well, sir?”
“Not quite as well as you, Billy—I have come into the backwoods to see
if I can do better.”
“Only serve under me,” said Billy,“ and I will repay all your good
offices.”
“What, the floggings, _et cetera_?”
“By God's help, sir, I may,” said Billy. “Try me, sir.”
“No—I am going on a little farther.”
“You may go farther, and fare worse, sir.”
“Perhaps so—but I believe it is bedtime, and so good-night, Mr. Ghost.”
Captain R———— retired very quietly to his room, went to bed, and slept
like a top, till the broad sun shone over the summits of the trees into
his face, as he lay under the window. He breakfasted sumptuously, and
set out gallantly for the prairies of St. Louis.
“Good-by, captain,” said Billy, leering, and lengthening his face to a
supernatural degree. “I hope you won't meet any ghosts on your way.”
“Good-by, Billy,” replied Captain R————, a little nettled at this joke.
“I hope you will not get into the state prison for playing the ghost.”
“I'll take care of that, sir; I've been in the state prison already,
and you won't catch me there again, I warrant you.”
“What do you mean, Billy?”
“I mean, that there is little or no odds between a state ship and a
state prison,” said Billy, with a face longer than ever, and a most
expressive shrug.
Captain R———— proceeded on his way, reflecting on the singular story
of Billy Morgan, whose pranks on board the frigate had convinced some
hundreds of men of the existence of ghosts, and thrown the gloom of
superstitious horror over the remainder of their existence. “Not a
sailor,” thought he, “out of more than five hundred, with the exception
of a single one, but will go to his grave in the full belief of the
appearance of Billy Morgan's ghost. What an unlucky rencounter this of
mine; it has spoiled one of the best-authenticated ghost stories of the
age.”
THE
NYMPH OF THE MOUNTAIN.
In a certain corner of the Bay State there once stood, and we hope will
continue to nourish long and happily, a snug town, now promoted to be
a city, the name of which is not material to our purpose. Here in a
great shingle palace, which would have been a very comfortable edifice
had it only been finished, lived a reputable widow, well to do in the
world, and the happy mother of a promising lad, a wonderful clever boy,
as might be expected. In fact, Shearjashub (that was his name) was no
bad specimen of the country lad. He was hardy, abstemious, independent,
and _cute_ withal; and before he was a man grown, made a great bargain
once out of a travelling merchant, a Scotchman, who chanced that way.
Besides this, he was a mechanical genius; and, though far from being
lazy, delighted in the invention of labour-saving machines, some of
which were odd enough. He peeled all his mother's pumpkins by water,
and spun her flax with a windmill. Nay, it was reported of him, that he
once invented a machine for digging graves upon speculation, by which
he calculated he should certainly have made his fortune, had not the
people of the village all with one accord taken it into their heads to
live for ever. The name of the family was Yankee, they having been the
first that had intercourse with the Indians, who called them Yankee,
because they could not say English.
The Widow Yankee was a right pious, meeting-going woman, who held it
to be a great want of faith not to believe in everything; especially
everything out of the way and impossible. She was a great amateur of
demonology and witchcraft. Moreover, she was gifted with a reasonable
share of curiosity, though it is recorded that once she came very near
missing to get at the bottom of a secret. The story ran as follows:—
One day, as she was sitting at her window, which had a happy aspect for
overlooking the affairs of the village, she saw a mysterious-looking
man, with a stick in his hand and a pipe in his mouth, walking exactly
three feet behind a white cow. The same thing happened precisely at the
same hour in the same manner the next day, and so continued for some
time. The first week the widow began to think it rather odd; the second
she began to think it quite strange; the third it became altogether
mysterious; and the fourth the poor woman took to her bed, of the
disease of the man and the cow.
Doctor Calomel undertook the cure in a new and original manner, to wit,
without the use of medicine. He wrought upon the mysterious cowdriver
to come to the widow's house, and tell her the whole secret of the
business. When he came into the room the sick woman raised herself up,
and in a faint voice addressed him as follows:—
“Mysterious man! I conjure thee to tell me what under the sun makes
thee always follow that cow about every day at the same hour, and at
the same distance from her tail?”
“Because the cow always goes before me!” replied the mysterious man.
Upon which the widow jumped out of her sick bed, seized an old shoe,
fired it at the mysterious man's head, and was miraculously cured from
that moment. Doctor Calomel got into great practice thereupon.
Shearjashub inherited a considerable share of his mother's inquiring
disposition, and was very inquisitive about the affairs of other
people; but, to do him justice, he took pretty good care to keep
his own to himself, like a discreet lad as he was. Having invented
so many labour-saving machines, Jashub, as he was usually called by
the neighbours, thought it was great nonsense to work himself; so he
set his machines going, and took to the amusement of killing time,
which, in a country village, is no such easy matter. It required a
considerable share of ingenuity. His favourite mode of doing this was
taking his gun on his shoulder, and sallying forth into the fields and
woods, followed by a cur, whose genealogy was perfectly mysterious.
Nobody could tell to what family he belonged; certain it was, that
he was neither “mongrel, puppy, whelp, nor hound,” but a cur of low
degree, whose delight was to bask in the sun when he was not out with
his young master.
In this way Jashub would pass day after day, in what he called
sporting; that is to say, toiling through tangled woods and rough bog
meadows and swamps, that quivered like a jelly at every step, and
returning home at night hungry as well as tired. Report said that he
never was known to shoot anything; and thus far his time was spent
innocently, if not improvingly.
One fast-day, early in the spring of 1776, Jashub went forth as usual,
with his gun on his shoulder, and little Snap (such was the name of the
dog) at his heels. The early May had put on all her charms; a thousand
little patches of wild violets were peeping forth with deep blue eyes;
a thousand, yea, tens of thousands of little buds were expanding into
leaves apace; and crowds of chirping birds were singing a hymn to the
jolly laughing spring. Jashub could not find it in his heart to fire
at them; but if he had, there would have been no danger, except of
frightening the little warblers, and arresting their song.
Beguiled by the beauties of Nature and her charming music, Jashub
almost unconsciously wandered on until he came to the opening of a deep
glen in the mountain, which rose at some miles distance, west of the
village. It was formed by the passage of a pure crystal stream, which,
in the course of ages, or perhaps by a single effort, had divided the
mountain about the space of twenty yards, ten of which were occupied
by the brook, which silently wound its way along the edge of steep and
rocky precipices several hundred feet high, that formed the barriers of
the glen on either side. These towering perpendicular masses of gray
eternity were here and there green with the adventurous laurel, which,
fastening its roots in the crevices, nodded over the mighty steep in
fearful dizziness. Here and there a little spring gushed forth high up
among the graybeard rocks, and trickled down their sides in silvery
brightness. In other places patches of isinglass appeared, sparkling
against the sober masses, and communicating a singularly lustrous
character to the scene, which had otherwise been all gloomy solitude.
Jashub gazed a while in apprehensive wonder, as he stood at the
entrance of these everlasting gates. Curiosity prompted him to enter,
and explore the recesses within, while a certain vague unwillingness
deterred him. At length curiosity, or perhaps fate, which had decreed
that he should become the instrument of her great designs, prevailed
against all opposition, and he entered the gates of this majestic
palace of nature. He slowly advanced, sometimes arrested by a certain
feeling of mysterious awe; at others driven on by the power which had
assumed the direction of his conduct, until he arrived at the centre
of the hallowed solitude. Not a living thing breathed around him,
except his little dog, and his gun trembled in his hand. All was
gloom, silence, solitude, deep and profound. The brook poured forth
no murmurs, the birds and insects seemed to have shunned the unsunned
region, where everlasting twilight reigned; and the scream of the
hawks, pursuing their way across the deep chasm, was hushed as they
passed.
Jashub was arrested by the melancholy grandeur of the scene, and his
dog looked wistfully in his face, as if he wanted to go home. As he
stood thus lingering, leaning on his gun, a merry strain broke forth
upon the terrible silence, and echoed through the glen. The sound made
him suddenly start, in doing which his foot somehow or other caught
in the lock of his gun, which he had forgot to uncock, as was usual
with him, and caused it to go off. The explosion rang through the
recesses of the glen in a hundred repetitions, which were answered by
the howlings of the little dog. As the echoes gradually subsided, and
the smoke cleared away, the music again commenced. It was a careless,
lively air, such as suited the taste of the young man, and he forgot
his fears in his love of music.
As he stood thus entranced he heard a voice, sweet, yet animating as
the clear sound of the trumpet, exclaim,
“Shearjashub! Shearjashub!”
Jashub's heart bounded into his throat, and prevented his answering. He
loaded his gun, and stood on the defensive.
In a moment after the same trumpet voice repeated the same words,
“Shearjashub! Shearjashub!”
“What d'ye want, you tarnal kritter?” at length the young man answered,
with a degree of courage that afterwards astonished him.
“Listen—and look!”
He listened and looked, but saw nothing, until a little flourish of the
same sprightly tune directed his attention to the spot whence it came.