GHOSTS.
By waiting upon the prisoners, Simon Ropes and I gained certain
information of greater or less value, although there was in the task
nothing to give us pleasure.
When it had been announced that we were at war once more with the
British king, I believed that all Englishmen were our sworn enemies, as
I held it my duty to be theirs; but before we two lads had been four
and twenty hours in our new station aboard the _America_, I came to
understand that at least a certain portion of the Britishers were, in a
degree, friendly toward us.
As, for instance, these sailors whom we held prisoners complained quite
as bitterly as had we, because the king’s ships impressed their men,
and it really seemed as if the mariners of both countries had equal
cause for complaint, although, as a matter of course, it was not as bad
in the case of the Britisher to be impressed, in order that he might
help defend his country, as it was for the American to be taken against
his will into the service of a monarch whom he had no reason to love or
respect.
These Britishers, weary of the long imprisonment, were more than
willing to hold converse with us lads, and as we loitered in the dark
hold, after having brought their food, we heard many and many a story
of cruelty practised by the officers of the English navy against their
own people, until it seemed as if the king’s subjects had quite as much
reason to rise against his Majesty as had we in ’76.
However, it is not for me to set down such information as is doubtless
known to many of our people already; but I must confine myself to the
principal events which occurred while Simon Ropes and I served on board
the armed ship _America_, and now has come the time when the most
thrilling of our experiences is to be related.
It was on the second night after we had parted company with the
_Benjamin_, and there was no more than air enough stirring to give the
ship steerageway, while a certain mist hung over the water, partially
obscuring the faint light of the stars.
At sunset, not the faintest glimmer of a sail had been seen, in either
direction, and while the breeze held so light it was certain nothing
would heave in sight, therefore were the men on the lookout more
careless, knowing full well their watchfulness would be vain.
Simon and I had come up from the hold about eight o’clock, having
loitered there a certain length of time after the guard was changed, in
order to talk with the prisoners, and, coming on to the gun-deck, saw
there the men separated in little groups, as they had been almost every
night since that Friday mishap.
We knew full well what was the subject of their conversation or
discussion, whichever it might be called, and, wearied with the theme,
we continued on to the spar-deck, not minded to hear for the hundredth
time what fate befell this craft or that, to whose crew had been given
an omen similar to the one which came to us shortly after leaving Salem.
Only a small portion of the watch on duty were awake. There was nothing
to be done, and the majority of the men, wearied with the work of the
day, were taking advantage of every opportunity for cat-naps, when the
officers’ backs were turned.
Simon and I, new to the duty of caring for prisoners, were heavy-hearted
because of the suffering which we knew the poor fellows were enduring,
and felt no desire for slumber. Indeed, had we been so minded, there was
nothing to have prevented our turning in at that moment, since we were
no longer forced to serve with either watch, save at such times as all
hands might be called.
Just abaft the mizzenmast was our favourite lounging-place at such
times, and there we went on this night, thinking only of those whom we
had left in the ship’s hold, forgetting, for the time being, the evil
predictions of Master Josh and his messmates.
I was not conscious of gazing in any one direction. In fact, there
was nothing to be seen. Owing to the gloom, the men, as they moved
listlessly about, appeared to be faint shadows rather than human
beings, and the air was so light that we failed to distinguish the
break of foam, as the waves swept either side our craft.
It was as if we were motionless, save for the lazy swell on which the
ship rose and fell so gently that one was hardly conscious of any
movement.
Simon and I were speaking of what had been told us by one of the
prisoners, who, three years before, had been taken out of a British
merchantman by one of the king’s ships.
We discussed the injustice of thus making slaves of free men, and
unconsciously, perhaps because of the quiet everywhere around, our
voices sank into whispers.
Then it was that suddenly I saw rising out from the forecastle hatchway
a white mass.
[Illustration: “SUDDENLY I SAW, RISING OUT FROM THE FORECASTLE
HATCHWAY, A WHITE MASS.”]
I failed to distinguish any semblance of a human form, and yet, even
in the darkness could see that this--whatever it might be--occupied no
more space than would have been taken up by a man’s body.
Fear seized upon me at once, but even in my terror and bewilderment, I
wondered how it was possible for me thus plainly to discern anything
at such a distance, while the darkness was so dense as to prevent my
seeing members of the watch standing near at hand.
Just for an instant I fancied myself the victim of a delusion; but as I
sat bolt upright, gazing forward with my very heart in my eyes, Simon
Ropes grasped me by the arm nervously, yet firmly.
Then I knew that he had seen the same shape, and was no less alarmed
than I.
An exclamation of fear from out the darkness, twenty paces or more
away, told that we two were not the only ones who had seen this
strange sight, and immediately came a hail from the quarter-deck:
“Who’s that yelling like a baby?”
“It’s me; Tim Stubbs.”
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s a ghost, sir, come out of the forecastle hatch.”
“Have you turned fool?” the officer asked, angrily, and I dimly
understood that it was Mr. Fernald, the second mate, who was speaking.
“It’s a ghost all the same, sir,” the man replied, in quavering tones,
while at that moment the shape, or whatever it might be, seemed to fade
away, and on the instant was gone.
“It is out of sight now, sir,” some one shouted from near the foremast;
“but it was a ghost all the same, an’ that I’ll swear to!”
“Get below there, Stubbs, an’ see who’s trying to make a fool of you,”
Mr. Fernald cried, whereat the sailor slouched slowly off, muttering
to himself, and I knew full well that if any search was to be made Tim
Stubbs would not be the one to conduct it.
Immediately the apparition, if so it can be called, had vanished, one
could hear from this point and that on deck the voices of the men in
hoarse whispers or mutterings, thus showing that nearly all of the
watch had seen the singular thing.
Mr. Fernald most likely understood that the discipline of the ship
depended upon putting an end to any such fancy as that we had a ghost
aboard.
Not contenting himself with having ordered Stubbs below, he ran forward
at full speed, calling loudly for a lantern as he dropped through the
forecastle hatch.
I doubt if a single member of the watch followed him.
There had been so much talk of omens and signs since the first Friday
that the minds of the men were in good condition to believe whatsoever
smacked of the superstitious, and at the moment--ay, for many a long
day afterward--I was firmly convinced that the form which had risen
through the hatchway was not of this earth.
What with the shouting of the mate, his rapid footsteps on the deck as
he ran forward, and the muttering of the men, no little disturbance was
created, thanks to the stillness of the night, and while Simon and I
crouched abaft the mizzenmast, not daring to so much as speak, we heard
Captain Ropes’s voice as he came up from the cabin:
“What’s goin’ on here?” he asked of the helmsman, and the latter
replied, as if giving the most commonplace information:
“There’s a bloomin’ ghost for’ard, sir, an’ the second officer’s gone
to catch him.”
The captain gave vent to an exclamation of impatience, and striding to
the break of the quarter-deck, he shouted:
“Forward there!”
“Ay, ay, sir,” came from a dozen voices.
“What’s the cause of this disturbance?”
“There’s a ghost in the forecastle, sir.”
I heard the captain literally snort as he smothered an exclamation of
anger, and a moment later he asked:
“Where is Mr. Fernald?”
“Gone after the ghost, sir.”
“What do you mean by that?” was the angry question.
“There was a big something white popped up out of the fo’castle, sir,
an’ it smelled like a graveyard.”
“There was regular fire come out of its face,” another added, whose
imagination was more vivid.
“Let’s go back an’ tell father what we’ve seen,” Simon whispered to
me, and I caught at the suggestion eagerly, anxious to hear what
explanation the captain might make of the strange thing which had
appeared to us.
Silently as possible, lest the men should think we were gone aft
talebearing, the lad and I moved back to the break of the quarter-deck,
and were close at the captain’s feet before he observed us.
“Who is that?” he asked, peering down, and Simon replied:
“It’s me, father, and Nathan Crowninshield. We saw what the man called
a ghost, and were frightened by it.”
“Then you had best go ashore when next we make port, an’ say that you
are not fitted for sailormen,” the captain cried, sharply. “Are you all
turned fools that a shadow shall persuade you there’s a ghost aboard?”
“It was not a shadow, sir,” I made bold to say. “Simon and I were
sitting just abaft the mizzenmast, and I saw something white rise
out of the forecastle hatchway, even before any one spoke. Then it
disappeared as the men began calling one to another.”
“What was it like?” the captain asked, with a scornful laugh.
“Like nothing, sir,” Simon replied. “It was simply a white shape, but
there was no fire about it, as one of the men has stated, neither did I
detect any odour.”
“Of course you didn’t, because there was nothing in the hatchway. Most
likely it was a reflection of the canvas.”
“How could there be a reflection on a night like this, sir?” a voice
asked from out the darkness. “This ’ere is worse than a fog-storm for
smother, an’ if them as were amidships saw something come out of the
fore-hatchway, it is more than could be done if one of the crew was
nearabout there.”
All this was truth, as I realised on the instant.
Strain my eyes as I might, it was impossible to see the figure of the
speaker, and yet I knew full well that the white form in the hatchway
had loomed up clearly, not indistinctly, as it would seem should be the
case if it were a gleam from a piece of canvas.
Before the captain could reply to the sailor, Mr. Fernald came aft
carrying a lighted lantern, and Simon’s father asked, impatiently:
“Well, what did you find?”
“Nothing, sir. I reckon some of the men must have been playing pranks.”
“They will have cause to regret anything of the kind, if I can catch
them at it,” the captain said, angrily, and then, wheeling about, went
straight into the cabin, followed by the second officer, who doubtless
understood, as did I, that Simon’s father preferred the report should
be made where none of the crew might overhear.
Once the two officers left the deck, it was as if every man’s tongue
had suddenly been unloosed, and the watch below, most likely disturbed
by the running about, came pouring up to learn the cause of the unusual
noise.
Then it was we learned the result of the second officer’s search.
Some of the men had seen him come down with the lantern and search
about the gun-deck, but it was certain he failed to find anything.
Now it can well be fancied into what a state of excitement we were
plunged, Simon and I among the others.
Those who had clung to the belief that the carrying away of the topmast
was an omen of ill fortune declared the apparition in white to be a
second warning, and I question if there was a man forward of the cabin
who did not feel decidedly uneasy in mind.
It was nearly morning before Simon and I could compose ourselves
sufficiently to turn in, and when, after a short time of slumber broken
by most disagreeable dreams, I leaped out of the swinging bed, it was
only to find the men in such a mental condition as it is difficult to
describe.
The crew of the _America_, who had deemed themselves a fit match for
twice their number of Britishers, were vanquished by a defective spar,
and a something the character of which I could not then decide upon.
Nor was it possible for Simon and I to laugh at their fears.
We knew full well that there had been a form in the hatchway which
showed itself even amid the gloom, and no one could give it a name.
Perhaps, if Mr. Fernald had not made an immediate search, we might have
persuaded ourselves that some one of the crew had been playing a trick;
but as it was, there had not been sufficient time elapse from the
vanishing of the apparition until the first officer went below with the
lantern for any mischief-maker to have concealed himself.
It is not my intention to make any attempt at setting down here all
that was said on the subject during the day. There is not time enough
in my life to write all the foolishness I heard before nightfall.
Both my comrade and myself had given little heed to the carrying
away of the topmast on Friday; but the whiteness in the hatchway was
something which disturbed us greatly, and I literally trembled when we
were forced to go into the dark hold to feed the prisoners.
The day passed without mishap or important event, however.
From the officers we heard nothing whatsoever concerning the matter,
and the men talked about it altogether too much to please me.
We saw no sail during this day, and when night came the ship was
bowling along before a six-knot breeze, which should have blown from
our minds all the fancies that had taken possession of them.
But the darkness found us one and all more given over to superstitious
fears than before.
Both watches remained on deck, and I knew that not a man loitered
below, unless he took especial precautions to hide himself, for when
Simon and I came up from our task in the hold, no person could be seen
on the gun-deck.
From the eldest to the youngest they shunned the darkness, and seemed
to believe safety could be found only in the open air.
Simon and I, having discussed the singular subject during the day until
we were sick and tired of it, were stretched at full length just under
the break of the quarter, amidships, listening to the buzz of voices
around us, and hearing now and then a hum of conversation from the
officers aft, who were pacing to and fro in couples, as if fearing that
this new phase of affairs might breed trouble.
It was a time when one would say the most adroit could not play a
trick, and yet suddenly, as distinctly as if the words had been bawled
through a speaking-trumpet, came the cry:
“Put back! The cruise is ended!”
For a single instant after the words rang out clear and sharp, not a
sound could be heard save the seething waves as the stem of the ship
divided them, or the whistling of the wind amid canvas and cordage.
Then came a quick, angry cry from the captain:
“Let every man come aft! Every one of you! We’ll break up this
tomfoolery before I’m many hours older!”
It was much as if the crew were eager to obey the order, and in a
twinkling the ship was crowded near the break of the quarter, until
Simon and I were like to be trodden upon.
Then came a command which we could not hear, and immediately afterward
the second and third officers went forward.
I understood full well that the captain counted on finding some one
skulking forward, who was trying to work upon the fears of the men,
which had been aroused by the apparition of the night previous.
However, in case the officers failed to find any one nearabout the
hatchway from which the voice seemed to come, it would hardly be a
fair test, since any one of those forward might have spoken the words,
although not without having been detected by some of his companions.
At all events, the search was carried on evidently with great care, for
fully fifteen minutes elapsed before the two officers reappeared, and
meanwhile Simon and I, being sorely crowded against the break of the
quarter, had made bold to clamber up, by the aid of the men, until we
could sit upon the edge of the deck.
We were not more than six feet distant from Captain Ropes when the
officers made their report, and I distinctly heard Mr. Fernald say:
“We found nothing, sir. There is not a man below save those in the hold
who are guarding the prisoners.”
“Where are the cooks?” the captain cried.
“Here, sir! Here, sir! Here, sir!” came from as many different points
amid the throng.
“Divide your watches, Mr. Fernald! Let us see who is skulking!” the
captain added, a moment later.
Those belonging to the starboard watch were sent to the starboard side,
and those in the port watch, opposite, until the men were ranged in
double lines from the quarter-deck forward, Simon and I taking our
places with the rest, after which the captain and Mr. Fernald made a
tour of inspection.
This investigation did not please Simon’s father, as was shown when it
had come to an end, and he called for us two lads to follow him with
lanterns, while Mr. Fernald was to write down each man’s name as he
stood in line.
In this manner, after considerable time had been spent, a list of the
crew was written out, including the helmsman, who, as a matter of
course, had not left his station.
Then we went below; found the guards on duty, and added their names to
the list.
This done, the captain went on deck, and after he had counted the
written names, as I knew because Simon and I held the lanterns that he
might see clearly, he advanced to the break of the quarter, and said:
“It is clear to me, my men, that there is some one on board bent upon
doing a mischief. You from Massachusetts have heads too hard to believe
that there may be such things as ghosts who show themselves in the
darkness and shout with human voices. It is not necessary for me to
tell you, as I would children, that such things are impossible,--that
one who has left this world has no desire to return. It would be a
foolish sailorman who, having gotten into a better place, should care
to come back, particularly on board ship. I repeat that some one of
you is trying to do a mischief, and warn all hands that before many
hours have passed I will discover the offender. Then you may be certain
there will be such punishment dealt out as won’t soon be forgotten.
If, however, the guilty man chooses now to acknowledge what is little
less than a crime, he shall be forgiven; but let him hold his peace
five minutes longer, and he will wish he had never shipped on board the
_America_.”
The captain paused as if really expecting that some member of the crew
would step forward and acknowledge that he had played the part of
ghost; but not a man moved.
I saw the old shell-backs look curiously at each other, some of them
with an expression on their faces which told plainly that, unless the
ghost himself came forward, the captain would gain no information.
Well, Simon’s father waited while one might have counted twenty, and
then said, in a voice which was far from firm, because of the efforts
to control his anger:
“The starboard watch may go below, and since it is a pleasure for
some one here to act the part of ghost, I will see to it that he is
converted into one before four and twenty hours have passed! Unless
you were all old women, there would be no necessity for any words. You
would know full well how ridiculous all this flummery is; but since
you have turned women and are ready to tremble at the lightest sound,
declaring it comes from another world, I will see to it the offender
is brought up with a round turn. In addition, I’ll give that man who
talks too much about this foolishness a round dozen by way of reminding
him that there’s nothing ghostly in the lash of the cat. Now get below!”
The starboard watch obeyed on the instant, and Simon and I, thinking
it might not be well to loiter on deck while the captain was in such a
temper, followed them.