to have somebody in that guest-chamber, you are going to haunt me
wherever I may be, ruining my whiskey, taking all the curl out of my
hair, extinguishing my fire, and soaking me through to the skin?"
demanded the master.
"You have stated the case, Oglethorpe. And what is more," said the water
ghost, "it doesn't make the slightest difference where you are, if I
find that room empty, wherever you may be I shall douse you with my
spectral pres----"
Here the clock struck one, and immediately the apparition faded away. It
was perhaps more of a trickle than a fade, but as a disappearance it was
complete.
"By St. George and his Dragon!" ejaculated the master of Harrowby,
wringing his hands. "It is guineas to hot-cross buns that next Christmas
there's an occupant of the spare room, or I spend the night in a
bathtub."
But the master of Harrowby would have lost his wager had there been
anyone there to take him up, for when Christmas Eve came again he was in
his grave, never having recovered from the cold contracted that awful
night. Harrowby Hall was closed, and the heir to the estate was in
London, where to him in his chambers came the same experience that his
father had gone through, saving only that, being younger and stronger,
he survived the shock. Everything in his rooms was ruined--his clocks
were rusted in the works; a fine collection of water-color drawings was
entirely obliterated by the onslaught of the water ghost; and what was
worse, the apartments below his were drenched with the water soaking
through the floors, a damage for which he was compelled to pay, and
which resulted in his being requested by his landlady to vacate the
premises immediately.
The story of the visitation inflicted upon his family had gone abroad,
and no one could be got to invite him out to any function save afternoon
teas and receptions. Fathers of daughters declined to permit him to
remain in their houses later than eight o'clock at night, not knowing
but that some emergency might arise in the supernatural world which
would require the unexpected appearance of the water ghost in this on
nights other than Christmas Eve, and before the mystic hour when weary
churchyards, ignoring the rules which are supposed to govern polite
society, begin to yawn. Nor would the maids themselves have aught to do
with him, fearing the destruction by the sudden incursion of aqueous
femininity of the costumes which they held most dear.
So the heir of Harrowby Hall resolved, as his ancestors for several
generations before him had resolved, that something must be done. His
first thought was to make one of his servants occupy the haunted room at
the crucial moment; but in this he failed, because the servants
themselves knew the history of that room and rebelled. None of his
friends would consent to sacrifice their personal comfort to his, nor
was there to be found in all England a man so poor as to be willing to
occupy the doomed chamber on Christmas Eve for pay.
Then the thought came to the heir to have the fireplace in the room
enlarged, so that he might evaporate the ghost at its first appearance,
and he was felicitating himself upon the ingenuity of his plan, when he
remembered what his father had told him--how that no fire could
withstand the lady's extremely contagious dampness. And then he
bethought him of steam-pipes. These, he remembered, could lie hundreds
of feet deep in water, and still retain sufficient heat to drive the
water away in vapor; and as a result of this thought the haunted room
was heated by steam to a withering degree, and the heir for six months
attended daily the Turkish baths, so that when Christmas Eve came he
could himself withstand the awful temperature of the room.
The scheme was only partially successful. The water ghost appeared at
the specified time, and found the heir of Harrowby prepared; but hot as
the room was, it shortened her visit by no more than five minutes in the
hour, during which time the nervous system of the young master was
well-nigh shattered, and the room itself was cracked and warped to an
extent which required the outlay of a large sum of money to remedy. And
worse than this, as the last drop of the water ghost was slowly
sizzling itself out on the floor, she whispered to her would-be
conqueror that his scheme would avail him nothing, because there was
still water in great plenty where she came from, and that next year
would find her rehabilitated and as exasperatingly saturating as ever.
It was then that the natural action of the mind, in going from one
extreme to the other, suggested to the ingenious heir of Harrowby the
means by which the water ghost was ultimately conquered, and happiness
once more came within the grasp of the house of Oglethorpe.
The heir provided himself with a warm suit of fur under-clothing.
Donning this with the furry side in, he placed over it a rubber garment,
tight-fitting, which he wore just as a woman wears a jersey. On top of
this he placed another set of under-clothing, this suit made of wool,
and over this was a second rubber garment like the first. Upon his head
he placed a light and comfortable diving helmet, and so clad, on the
following Christmas Eve he awaited the coming of his tormentor.
It was a bitterly cold night that brought to a close this twenty-fourth
day of December. The air outside was still, but the temperature was
below zero. Within all was quiet, the servants of Harrowby Hall awaiting
with beating hearts the outcome of their master's campaign against his
supernatural visitor.
The master himself was lying on the bed in the haunted room, clad as
has already been indicated, and then----
The clock clanged out the hour of twelve.
There was a sudden banging of doors, a blast of cold air swept through
the halls, the door leading into the haunted chamber flew open, a splash
was heard, and the water ghost was seen standing at the side of the heir
of Harrowby, from whose outer dress there streamed rivulets of water,
but whose own person deep down under the various garments he wore was as
dry and as warm as he could have wished.
"Ha!" said the young master of Harrowby. "I'm glad to see you."
"You are the most original man I've met, if that is true," returned the
ghost. "May I ask where did you get that hat?"
"Certainly, madam," returned the master, courteously. "It is a little
portable observatory I had made for just such emergencies as this. But,
tell me, is it true that you are doomed to follow me about for one
mortal hour--to stand where I stand, to sit where I sit?"
"That is my delectable fate," returned the lady.
"We'll go out on the lake," said the master, starting up.
"You can't get rid of me that way," returned the ghost. "The water won't
swallow me up; in fact, it will just add to my present bulk."
"Nevertheless," said the master, firmly, "we will go out on the lake."
"But, my dear sir," returned the ghost, with a pale reluctance, "it is
fearfully cold out there. You will be frozen hard before you've been out
ten minutes."
"Oh no, I'll not," replied the master. "I am very warmly dressed. Come!"
This last in a tone of command that made the ghost ripple.
And they started.
They had not gone far before the water ghost showed signs of distress.
"You walk too slowly," she said. "I am nearly frozen. My knees are so
stiff now I can hardly move. I beseech you to accelerate your step."
"I should like to oblige a lady," returned the master, courteously, "but
my clothes are rather heavy, and a hundred yards an hour is about my
speed. Indeed, I think we would better sit down here on this snowdrift,
and talk matters over."
"Do not! Do not do so, I beg!" cried the ghost. "Let me move on. I feel
myself growing rigid as it is. If we stop here, I shall be frozen
stiff."
"That, madam," said the master slowly, and seating himself on an
ice-cake--"that is why I have brought you here. We have been on this
spot just ten minutes; we have fifty more. Take your time about it,
madam, but freeze, that is all I ask of you."
"I cannot move my right leg now," cried the ghost, in despair, "and my
overskirt is a solid sheet of ice. Oh, good, kind Mr. Oglethorpe, light
a fire, and let me go free from these icy fetters."
"Never, madam. It cannot be. I have you at last."
"Alas!" cried the ghost, a tear trickling down her frozen cheek. "Help
me, I beg. I congeal!"
"Congeal, madam, congeal!" returned Oglethorpe, coldly. "You have
drenched me and mine for two hundred and three years, madam. To-night
you have had your last drench."
"Ah, but I shall thaw out again, and then you'll see. Instead of the
comfortably tepid, genial ghost I have been in my past, sir, I shall be
iced-water," cried the lady, threateningly.
"No, you won't, either," returned Oglethorpe; "for when you are frozen
quite stiff, I shall send you to a cold-storage warehouse, and there
shall you remain an icy work of art forever more."
"But warehouses burn."
"So they do, but this warehouse cannot burn. It is made of asbestos and
surrounding it are fireproof walls, and within those walls the
temperature is now and shall forever be 416 degrees below the zero
point; low enough to make an icicle of any flame in this world--or the
next," the master added, with an ill-suppressed chuckle.
"For the last time let me beseech you. I would go on my knees to you,
Oglethorpe, were they not already frozen. I beg of you do not doo----"
Here even the words froze on the water-ghost's lips and the clock struck
one. There was a momentary tremor throughout the ice-bound form, and the
moon, coming out from behind a cloud, shone down on the rigid figure of
a beautiful woman sculptured in clear, transparent ice. There stood the
ghost of Harrowby Hall, conquered by the cold, a prisoner for all time.
The heir of Harrowby had won at last, and to-day in a large storage
house in London stands the frigid form of one who will never again flood
the house of Oglethorpe with woe and sea-water.
As for the heir of Harrowby, his success in coping with a ghost has made
him famous, a fame that still lingers about him, although his victory
took place some twenty years ago; and so far from being unpopular with
the fair sex, as he was when we first knew him, he has not only been
married twice, but is to lead a third bride to the altar before the year
is out.
BACK FROM THAT BOURNE
ANONYMOUS
From the New York _Sun_. By permission of the editor.
Back from That Bourne
ANONYMOUS
_Practical Working of Materialization in Maine. A
Strange Story from Pocock Island--A Materialized Spirit
that Will not Go back. The First Glimpse of what May
yet Cause very Extensive Trouble in this World._
(The _Sun_, Saturday, December 19, 1874.)
We are permitted to make extracts from a private letter which bears the
signature of a gentleman well known in business circles, and whose
veracity we have never heard called in question. His statements are
startling and well-nigh incredible, but if true, they are susceptible of
easy verification. Yet the thoughtful mind will hesitate about accepting
them without the fullest proof, for they spring upon the world a social
problem of stupendous importance. The dangers apprehended by Mr. Malthus
and his followers become remote and commonplace by the side of this new
and terrible issue.
The letter is dated at Pocock Island, a small township in Washington
County, Maine, about seventeen miles from the mainland and nearly
midway between Mt. Desert and the Grand Menan. The last state census
accords to Pocock Island a population of 311, mostly engaged in the
porgy fisheries. At the Presidential election of 1872 the island gave
Grant a majority of three. These two facts are all that we are able to
learn of the locality from sources outside of the letter already
referred to.
The letter, omitting certain passages which refer solely to private
matters, reads as follows:
"But enough of the disagreeable business that brought me here to this
bleak island in the month of November. I have a singular story to tell
you. After our experience together at Chittenden I know you will not
reject statements because they are startling.
"My friend, there is upon Pocock Island a materialized spirit which (or
who) refuses to be dematerialized. At this moment and within a quarter
of a mile from me as I write, a man who died and was buried four years
ago, and who has exploited the mysteries beyond the grave, walks, talks,
and holds interviews with the inhabitants of the island, and is, to all
appearances, determined to remain permanently upon this side of the
river. I will relate the circumstances as briefly as I can."
JOHN NEWBEGIN
"In April, 1870, John Newbegin died and was buried in the little
cemetery on the landward side of the island. Newbegin was a man of
about forty-eight, without family or near connections, and eccentric to
a degree that sometimes inspired questions as to his sanity. What money
he had earned by many seasons' fishing upon the banks was invested in
quarters of two small mackerel schooners, the remainder of which
belonged to John Hodgeson, the richest man on Pocock, who was estimated
by good authorities to be worth thirteen or fourteen thousand dollars.
"Newbegin was not without a certain kind of culture. He had read a good
deal of the odds and ends of literature and, as a simple-minded islander
expressed it in my hearing, knew more bookfuls than anybody on the
island. He was naturally an intelligent man; and he might have attained
influence in the community had it not been for his utter aimlessness of
character, his indifference to fortune, and his consuming thirst for
rum.
"Many yachtsmen who have had occasion to stop at Pocock for water or for
harbor shelter during eastern cruises, will remember a long, listless
figure, astonishingly attired in blue army pants, rubber boots, loose
toga made of some bright chintz material, and very bad hat, staggering
through the little settlement, followed by a rabble of jeering brats,
and pausing to strike uncertain blows at those within reach of the dead
sculpin which he usually carried round by the tail. This was John
Newbegin."
HIS SUDDEN DEATH
"As I have already remarked, he died four years ago last April. The
_Mary Emmeline_, one of the little schooners in which he owned, had
returned from the eastward, and had smuggled, or 'run in' a quantity of
St. John brandy. Newbegin had a solitary and protracted debauch. He was
missed from his accustomed walks for several days, and when the
islanders broke into the hovel where he lived, close down to the seaweed
and almost within reach of the incoming tide, they found him dead on the
floor, with an emptied demijohn hard by his head.
"After the primitive custom of the island, they interred John Newbegin's
remains without coroner's inquest, burial certificate, or funeral
services, and in the excitement of a large catch of porgies that summer,
soon forgot him and his friendless life. His interest in the _Mary
Emmeline_ and the _Prettyboat_ recurred to John Hodgeson; and as nobody
came forward to demand an administration of the estate, it was never
administered. The forms of law are but loosely followed in some of these
marginal localities."
HIS REAPPEARANCE AT POCOCK
"Well, my dear ----, four years and four months had brought their quota
of varying seasons to Pocock Island when John Newbegin reappeared under
the following circumstances:
"In the latter part of last August, as you may remember, there was a
heavy gale all along our Atlantic coast. During this storm the squadron
of the Naugatuck Yacht Club, which was returning from a summer cruise as
far as Campobello, was forced to take shelter in the harbor to the
leeward of Pocock Island. The gentlemen of the club spent three days at
the little settlement ashore. Among the party was Mr. R---- E----, by
which name you will recognize a medium of celebrity, and one who has
been particularly successful in materializations. At the desire of his
companions, and to relieve the tedium of their detention, Mr.
E---- improvised a cabinet in the little schoolhouse at Pocock, and gave
a _seance_, to the delight of his fellow yachtsmen and the utter
bewilderment of such natives as were permitted to witness the
manifestations.
"The conditions appeared unusually favorable to spirit appearances and
the _seance_ was upon the whole perhaps the most remarkable that Mr.
E---- ever held. It was all the more remarkable because the surroundings
were such that the most prejudiced skeptic could discover no possibility
of trickery.
"The first form to issue from the wood closet which constituted the
cabinet, when Mr. E---- had been tied therein by a committee of old
sailors from the yachts, was that of an Indian chief who announced
himself as Hock-a-mock, and who retired after dancing a 'Harvest Moon'
_pas seul_, and declaring himself in very emphatic terms, as opposed to
the present Indian policy of the Administration. Hock-a-mock was
succeeded by the aunt of one of the yachtsmen, who identified herself
beyond question by allusion to family matters and by displaying the scar
of a burn upon her left arm, received while making tomato catsup upon
earth. Then came successively a child whom none present recognized, a
French Canadian who could not talk English, and a portly gentleman who
introduced himself as William King, first Governor of Maine. These in
turn reentered the cabinet and were seen no more.
"It was some time before another spirit manifested itself, and Mr. E----
gave directions that the lights be turned down still further. Then the
door of the wood closet was slowly opened and a singular figure in
rubber boots and a species of Dolly Varden garment emerged, bringing a
dead fish in his right hand."
HIS DETERMINATION TO REMAIN
"The city men who were present, I am told, thought that the medium was
masquerading in grotesque habiliments for the more complete astonishment
of the islanders, but these latter rose from their seats and exclaimed
with one consent: 'It is John Newbegin!' And then, in not unnatural
terror of the apparition they turned and fled from the schoolroom,
uttering dismal cries.
"John Newbegin came calmly forward and turned up the solitary kerosene
lamp that shed uncertain light over the proceedings. He then sat down in
the teacher's chair, folded his arms, and looked complacently about him.
"'You might as well untie the medium,' he finally remarked. 'I propose
to remain in the materialized condition.'
"And he did remain. When the party left the schoolhouse among them
walked John Newbegin, as truly a being of flesh and blood as any man of
them. From that day to this, he has been a living inhabitant of Pocock
Island, eating, drinking, (water only) and sleeping after the manner of
men. The yachtsmen who made sail for Bar Harbor the very next morning,
probably believe that he was a fraud hired for the occasion by Mr.
E----. But the people of Pocock, who laid him out, dug his grave, and
put him into it four years ago, know that John Newbegin has come back to
them from a land they know not of."
A SINGULAR MEMBER OF SOCIETY
"The idea, of having a ghost--somewhat more condensed it is true than
the traditional ghost--as a member was not at first overpleasing to the
311 inhabitants of Pocock Island. To this day, they are a little
sensitive upon the subject, feeling evidently that if the matter got
abroad, it might injure the sale of the really excellent porgy oil
which is the product of their sole manufacturing interest. This
reluctance to advertise the skeleton in their closet, superadded to the
slowness of these obtuse, fishy, matter-of-fact people to recognize the
transcendent importance of the case, must be accepted as explanation of
the fact that John Newbegin's spirit has been on earth between three and
four months, and yet the singular circumstance is not known to the whole
country.
"But the Pocockians have at last come to see that a spirit is not
necessarily a malevolent spirit, and accepting his presence as a fact in
their stolid, unreasoning way, they are quite neighborly and sociable
with Mr. Newbegin.
"I know that your first question will be: 'Is there sufficient proof of
his ever having been dead?' To this I answer unhesitatingly, 'Yes.' He
was too well-known a character and too many people saw the corpse to
admit of any mistake on this point. I may add here that it was at one
time proposed to disinter the original remains, but that project was
abandoned in deference to the wishes of Mr. Newbegin, who feels a
natural delicacy about having his first set of bones disturbed from
motives of mere curiosity."
AN INTERVIEW WITH A DEAD MAN
"You will readily believe that I took occasion to see and converse with
John Newbegin. I found him affable and even communicative. He is
perfectly aware of his doubtful status as a being, but is in hopes that
at some future time there may be legislation that shall correctly define
his position and the position of any spirit who may follow him into the
material world. The only point upon which he is reticent is his
experience during the four years that elapsed between his death and his
reappearance at Pocock. It is to be presumed that the memory is not a
pleasant one: at least he never speaks of this period. He candidly
admits, however, that he is glad to get back to earth and that he
embraced the very first opportunity to be materialized.
"Mr. Newbegin says that he is consumed with remorse for the wasted years
of his previous existence. Indeed, his conduct during the past three
months would show that this regret is genuine. He has discarded his
eccentric costume, and dresses like a reasonable spirit. He has not
touched liquor since his reappearance. He has embarked in the porgy oil
business, and his operations already rival that of Hodgeson, his old
partner in the _Mary Emmeline_ and the _Prettyboat_. By the way,
Newbegin threatens to sue Hodgeson for his individed quarter in each of
these vessels, and this interesting case therefore bids fair to be
thoroughly investigated in the courts.
"As a business man, he is generally esteemed on the Island, although
there is a noticeable reluctance to discount his paper at long dates. In
short, Mr. John Newbegin is a most respectable citizen (if a dead man
can be a citizen) and has announced his intention of running for the
next Legislature!"
IN CONCLUSION
"And now, my dear ----, I have told you the substance of all I know
respecting this strange, strange case. Yet, after all, why so strange?
We accepted materialization at Chittenden. Is this any more than the
logical issue of that admission? If the spirit may return to earth,
clothed in flesh and blood and all the physical attributes of humanity,
why may it not remain on earth as long as it sees fit?
"Thinking of it from whatever standpoint, I cannot but regard John
Newbegin as the pioneer of a possibly large immigration from the spirit
world. The bars once down, a whole flock will come trooping back to
earth. Death will lose its significance altogether. And when I think of
the disturbance which will result in our social relations, of the
overthrow of all accepted institutions, and of the nullification of all
principles of political economy, law, and religion, I am lost in
perplexity and apprehension."
THE GHOST-SHIP
BY RICHARD MIDDLETON
From _The Ghost-Ship_ by Richard Middleton. Published by permission of
Mitchell Kennerley, and taken from the volume, _The Ghost-Ship and Other
Stories_.
The Ghost-Ship
BY RICHARD MIDDLETON
Fairfield is a little village lying near the Portsmouth Road, about
halfway between London and the sea. Strangers, who now and then find it
by accident, call it a pretty, old-fashioned place; we who live in it
and call it home don't find anything very pretty about it, but we should
be sorry to live anywhere else. Our minds have taken the shape of the
inn and the church and the green, I suppose. At all events, we never
feel comfortable out of Fairfield.