THE GREEN LIGHT UPON THE SEA.
Jacob was on his feet in a moment. His eyes were dazed by a strange
pale-green light that shone luminous over the boat's larboard bow. The
sea was calm, with only a gentle swell rolling from the east; the sky
was black and starless, and all was dark around saving only in the one
direction where shone the ghostly green light, that reared itself like a
cloud of radiant mist out of the sea, only a few yards from where he
stood.
Even as he gazed upon it, bewildered and speechless, the light seemed to
approach, or else it was the boat that sailed into the luminance. It
shed its ghastly green glare upon everything, making all on board as
plain as though the craft were bathed in soft moonlight. All was as
green as grass. Webbe, Timothy, and Gilbert stood staring about them
like phantoms, silently glancing at one another with the emotions of men
who had been suddenly hurried into another world. Their faces, their
clothing, even their hair was green, and it seemed that the mysterious
light had deprived them of speech, for none spoke.
Timothy Trollope, who had been at the helm, had suddenly ceased to pay
any regard to the steering, and now the boat's sail swayed idly to and
fro, empty of wind. Gilbert Oglander, regaining his sober senses, looked
over the side to search for the origin of the strange radiance. But
there was no flame to the light, which seemed to be a mere transparent
shaft of air, as unsubstantial as a rainbow. And when he turned to see
if Jacob Hartop were yet awake, and found the old man at his side, he
implored an explanation of the mystery.
"What means it, Master Hartop?" he asked in an awe-stricken voice. "Hast
seen its like ever before?"
But the old buccaneer made no answer. Clambering over the coaming of the
well, he crept on hands and knees towards the bow near where Gilbert
stood. He peered out into the light, gripping the gunwale with trembling
hands. He remained thus for many moments. Then suddenly he drew back,
flung his left arm round Gilbert's legs, and with a wild, frantic cry
upon his lips pointed out with his skinny right hand into the midst of
the green light.
"See! see!" he cried. "It is a ship!"
Gilbert's eyes followed the direction in which the old man pointed, and
presently he discovered, at the farther fringe of the light, the
towering form of a vessel's hull. He could clearly see her stern
port-holes, with the gallery above them, and above the gallery the
projecting rail of her poop-deck. Her counter was richly carved with
many strange devices, and the carvings were covered with tarnished gold.
Her stout masts rose high above her, and her ragged sails were ample
evidence that it was long since the ship had known their use.
"Can you not see her?" continued Hartop. "Od's life, boy! Look where I
point."
"I see her, Master Hartop," returned Gilbert; "I see her. 'Tis a
galleon, and a Spaniard by her build."
"Ay, faith, a galleon indeed," nodded Hartop; "and a galleon upon which
mine eyes now look not for the first time, if she be not a ghost!" He
rose to his feet, still keeping his arm about Gilbert, and added in a
strange, dry voice that was scarcely more than a breath: "'Tis a ghost,
Master Oglander, 'tis a ghost that you look upon--the ghost of the
Golden Galleon!"
And so saying, he turned from the sight and sank upon the narrow deck,
covering his face with his hands.
By this time Timothy Trollope also had seen the galleon. Clasping the
tiller, he held it over. But it had no effect, for the pinnace had no
way upon her; the wind had fallen to an absolute calm, and the sail
hung loose and motionless against the mast.
"Out with the sweeps!" cried Edward Webbe, and Timothy, leaving his
post, took up one of the long oars, while Gilbert Oglander took the
other, and together they pulled and pulled, striving to bring the boat
round and so escape from the grim phantom galleon. But with the first
stroke they made their oar-blades caught in a mesh of sea-weeds. The
disturbed water flashed with phosphorescent fire, and when the oars were
with difficulty dragged up they rose dripping with a shower of sparks
and heavy with clinging weeds. Again the oars were dipped, and again
they were weighted with the tangled growth of weeds.
"'Tis of no avail, Tim," declared Gilbert as he drew in his oar. He
leaned over the boat's side and looked down into the calm, shadowy
water, where fitful tracks of shining white light showed the movements
of coiling writhing monsters of the deep.
"Nay, pull at your oars!" cried Jacob Hartop, rising now from the deck
and slipping down into the well. "Let us not be carried nearer to that
horrid ship! Dip not your blades so deep, but pull her round that we may
get beyond this phantom light. Here, Ned," he added to Webbe, "take thou
a hand of Timothy's oar, while I give a help to Gilbert. 'Twill go ill
if four of us cannot move her. Robin, my lad, get thee to the tiller and
steer us back into the darkness."
He looked aft to where Robin stood and saw the lad obediently approach
the tiller, while he himself pulled at Gilbert's oar. The boat began to
move, but scarcely had a second stroke of the oars been made when a
frantic scream came from Robin Redfern, and the lad, starting forward,
plunged himself headlong into the midst of his companions.
"In heaven's name, what hath bewitched the lad?" cried Hartop. He
abandoned the oar and bent down to pick Robin up, and felt him trembling
in every limb. The boy was comforted by the touch of human hands, but he
positively refused to return to the helm.
"I cannot, I cannot!" he cried.
"Take you the oar, then, Robin," said Timothy, "while I go."
But Timothy, bold though he was, came back even more quickly than Robin
had done, with his face transfixed with terror.
"Look! look!" he stammered, pointing with fearful eagerness to the
boat's stern.
All turned their gaze towards the tiller, and saw something which might
well fill them with dread. A long flesh-like arm, half-pink half-green,
was gliding slowly over the gunwale, with the movements of a huge
caterpillar. Its farther end was not visible at first, but Gilbert
Oglander, glancing over into the water, traced the thing for many yards
to where it was rooted in a great green shining body midway between
the boat and the galleon. The body was furnished with two great
glaring eyes as large as plates. From near the eyes some eight or nine
other arms or tentacles were stretched forth, some lying inactive on the
water's surface, others poised in the green air, with rows of immense
sucking discs on their under side; and two of them had climbed up the
galleon's hull and were entwined about her like a pair of giant
serpents. All this Gilbert perceived in a momentary glance. But he told
naught of the matter to his mates. Going down on his hands and knees in
the boat's well he crept to one of the little lockers that were under
the side-seats. He pulled open the door, thrust in his arm end brought
out two swords, and flung one of them to Timothy.
[Illustration: "FOR THE LOVE OF HEAVEN CUT THE THING IN TWAIN!"]
"Here, Tim, quick!" he cried. "For the love of heaven cut the thing in
twain!"
Then again thrusting his arm into the locker he brought out an axe,
which he gripped in his hand. Springing aft to the stern, he then began
to hew at the monstrous arm at the part which was lying across the
gunwale. Timothy got to the other side, and in like manner struck with
all his might at the creature. Stroke after stroke of sword and axe fell
upon the writhing thing.
Suddenly the boat swayed over, the sail drew wind, and as suddenly the
mysterious green light flickered, faded, flickered again, and then faded
into utter darkness. There was a faint splash under the stern.
"'Tis done!" shouted Timothy, stamping his heel on the severed portion
of the monster's arm as it lay across the deck. "Give us a hand here,
Master Webbe, and help us to heave this thing overboard. Touch it not
but with your boot, lest it sting you with its poison. Now, all
together!"
"Down with the helm!" cried Hartop, himself springing to the tiller. And
then, as the remnant of the animal's tentacle was plunged into the sea,
the pinnace moved slowly onward over the darkened waters, and the little
crew breathed in thankful freedom. Yet a strange superstitious terror
had seized upon them, and for a long time no word was spoken and no
sound heard but the creaking of the ropes, the light bubbling of the
water at the bow, and the intermittent sobbing of young Robin Redfern.
They yearned for the coming of daylight, and dreaded every moment that
the eerie green light might again surround them. Again and again Jacob
Hartop as he sat at the tiller glanced furtively behind him, as if to
assure himself that he was not being pursued by what he firmly believed
to be the phantom of his lost ship. Timothy Trollope, too, whose simple
and untutored mind had yielded to the same superstitious fear that was
oppressing the skipper, stood up time after time and, rubbing his eyes,
glanced backward across the sea. Gilbert Oglander had but an uneasy
sleep, while Webbe, who sat with his legs outstretched before him and
his back firmly planted against the boat's side-planks, refused to close
his eyes. The only one who slept peacefully was Robin, who had
literally cried himself to sleep.
At last, in the eastern sky there appeared the faint gray gleam of
coming dawn. The welcome light crept over sky and sea. The men could now
see each other's pale and troubled faces, and then, for the first time
since the mysterious green radiance had vanished, Jacob Hartop spoke.
"It hath been a most merciful escape," said he, "a most merciful
deliverance. The Lord be thanked!"
"Ay, the Lord be thanked!" murmured Edward Webbe.
The two old men had been feasting their eyes on the dawn-light over in
the east. But Gilbert Oglander, who now rose to his feet and faced the
westward, gave a slight start and quietly placed his hand on Hartop's
shoulder.
"The galleon is still in sight, Master Hartop," said he.
"Ay," echoed Timothy Trollope, "she is still in sight."
Slowly and deliberately Jacob turned his head. His hand lost its hold of
the tiller. Slowly he looked back again at his companions.
"What means it?" he muttered hoarsely through his dry, parched lips. His
face was ashen gray and woefully haggard. He seemed to have aged a score
of years since the last evening. "What means it?" he repeated dryly.
"It seemeth to me," said Gilbert, "that your golden galleon is no ghost
after all, but a veritable floating ship."
"Said you not that she was loaded with Spanish treasure, Master Hartop?"
questioned Timothy.
Jacob nodded.
"As full laden as ever ship could be," he answered.
"And wilt thou leave her there, where she is, to drift at random on the
wide sea, to rot upon the water, and to go down at last to bestow her
treasure upon the mermaids? I pray thee, let us go back to her, that we
may bring away with us some of the gold whereof thou hast spoken."
"What!" cried Hartop, fixing his glassy eyes in astonishment upon the
bold lad.
"'Tis daylight now," pursued Tim. "Mark how the coming sunlight spreads
across the sky. Mark how its bright reflection gleams upon your
galleon's golden hull. Why need we fear to approach her, ay, or even to
board her, in the broad light of day?"
Hartop shook his head in grave rebuke.
"Thou'rt over bold, Master Timothy," said he. "The ship were a wealthy
prize, I will allow. But I would have thee know that 'twas not to
ransack drifting derelicts that we came out upon this voyage, but in
quest of King Philip's plate fleet. Having failed to discover the fleet
in our allotted time, we shall now return to Queen Elizabeth's ships at
Flores and inform Her Majesty's admiral of the result of our quest. As
for the golden galleon, let her rot, let her sink, say I. Let her
treasures go down to the mermaids' halls, that the precious gems may
bedeck the mermaids' necks withal. It will not be the first ship-load of
Spanish doubloons that hath gone unto the depths for the children of the
ocean to play with. And I say to you, were the galleon thrice her size,
with thrice her present wealth aboard of her, I would not turn back a
fathom's distance with the thought of entering her. And now," he added,
"I pray you, just hitch me up another inch or two of the peak halliard
there, while Gilbert doth set about preparing our breakfast."
And so they sailed back to Flores.