"SAIL HO!"
"Stand by, the watch forrud!" he sang out, in a voice of thunder,
putting his hands to his mouth so as to form a speaking-trumpet, as he
leant against the poop rail, and pitching his key so high that his order
triumphed over the noise of both wind and sea. "Man the jib halliards!
Hoist away!"
In the meantime the engine-room bell had been rung and rapid directions
given to go astern full speed, our screw being down and steam got up
long since, as I have already mentioned, so as to be prepared for a
similar emergency.
"Hard up with the helm!" now shouted the commodore, who seemed to have
taken the management of the ship for the moment entirely in his own
hands; and then, looking forwards, he roared again to us on the
forecastle, "Haul taut your jib sheet!"
The sail served its turn, with the backing of the screw, to make the
corvette's head pay off as we wore ship; but the strength of the nor'-
east gale was such, that hardly had we made the sheet fast, ere the jib
blew clean away from its lacing, with the sound of a gun going off,
while a big wave came over our weather side at the same time, and nearly
washed every man-jack off the forecastle, beside flooding the waist, the
sea rushing down in a torrent below through the after-hatchway which had
not been battened down as yet.
It was a ticklish operation wearing with such a wind and sea on, and
might have been attended with even worse peril than happened; for, if
caught in the trough of some wave, broadside on, we might have capsized,
instead of merely taking a hundred tons of water or so on board, which
we could have very well dispensed with.
However, it was our only chance of getting out of the way of the
approaching vessel--at least so our old commodore deemed, and he ought
to have been, and was too, the best judge.
And the ship!
None of us for a second or two thought of looking for her, the men all
rushing to their stations, and the port watch having been called on
deck, as well as us chaps belonging to the starboard division, who were
already there, in case of our broaching-to and our masts going by the
board--which everybody believed, I think, barring the commodore, would
have occurred.
Now, therefore, on our succeeding in paying off so handsomely without
any serious mishap, the _Active_ scudding and running before the wind
like a racehorse under her bare poles, so to speak, the scraps of storm
staysails we carried being not worth taking into account, the eyes of
every one were turned at once to windward to see what had become of the
stranger vessel.
She had completely disappeared!
Whether she had luffed up too suddenly on seeing the danger of a
collision between us, or had gone down all standing as she careered
onward, no one will ever know; for, though lookouts were sent aloft and
the horizon scanned in every direction, not a single trace of her was to
be seen anywhere in sight, albeit the billowy surface of the tempest-
tossed sea was so white with foam that any dark object would at once
have been distinguished on its tumid bosom.
Not a trace was to be seen of the fine ship, which a moment ago was
riding the waters like a thing of life, even if impelled to run before
the fury of the gale--either astern of us, or ahead; or on our starboard
beam, as she should have been by rights if matters had turned out
differently; nor yet to port.
No, not a trace of her anywhere!
All of us seemed, really, to feel as if we had lost somebody or
something; and when, presently, the watch was piped down, we all went
below with saddened hearts.
"Oi wondther now," said Mick, when we were having our supper at our
messing-place aft on the lower deck a little later on, "if thet theer
vissil wor a raal ship, Tom, or a banshee?"
A man at the mess-table next ours heard his remark and burst out
laughing.
"I've heard tell o' the Flying Dutchman being seen in stormy weather
when going round the Cape," he said, speaking across the table in our
direction; "but I can't say as how I ever heard before of a banshee
adrift on the wide Atlantic Ocean!"
"Bedad, Oi say no rayson agin it," replied Mick, standing up for the
superstitions of his country like a man. "Faith, a banshee can go ony
whare he loikes."
"Ay?" said the other interrogatively. "What is a banshee, my lad?"
"Begorrah," answered Mick, crossing himself, "thet's more'n ony one
knows, may the saints presairve us fur mintionin' on 'em! They'll be
sperrits, Oi thinks, if Oi don't misremimber, ez can take ony shape they
plaizes!"
"Oh, spirits?" exclaimed the other man chaffingly, thinking he was going
to pull Mick's leg a bit. "What sort o' spirits, my lad--is it rum, or
gin, or whisky, now, you mean?"
Mick did not reflect a bit, but came out pat with his answer.
"Faith!" said he drily, setting the table in a roar as he winked from
one to the other of the mess opposite, though this wink of his was
hardly necessary, the habits and character of his questioner being very
well known throughout the ship, "it's a rum tasthe ye'd foind thim
sperrits, Oi'm afther thinkin', Misther Sharp! Bedad, yer gin wud be ez
hot ez ginger; an' it's preshus little toime ye'd hev fur tournin' down
the whisky, ez ye did, faith, the t'other day, whin ye wor brought up
'fore Noomber One on the quarther-deck, sure, fur goin' to shlape on the
watch! Begorrah, if ye don't look out sharp, Misther Sharp, ye'll hev
the divvle whiskin' ye off wid his tail, sure, fur thet same whisky
ye're talkin' of!"
"Well, well, my joker," said Sharp good-humouredly, joining in the laugh
of the rest of the chaps, though it was against himself; "I'm sorry I
hurt your feelings about that Irish banshee of yours!"
This turned the merriment of the mess towards Mick again; but he came up
to the scratch as `smilingly' as he did in his fight with the mulatto at
Barbados.
"Bedad," said he unflinchingly, "the banshees, sure, the saints
presairve the good people from harmin' us! Can take virry good care ov
thimselves; but, faith, if ye'd ivver sane wun, ye'd spake more
rispictfully ov thim, sure!"
"Tell us," inquired Joblins, the `green hand,' you may recollect, who
went on deck to fetch his second lot of grog with a spud-net and who,
though he had been made a bit sharper since then by the chaff and jokes
of his messmates, was still not by any means bright, "did yer ever see
one o' them ghostesses?"
"Hev Oi ivver sane wun?" repeated Mick, in a tone of intense scorn.
"Begorrah, Oi hev sane hoondreds!"
"Lor'!" exclaimed the simpleton, evidently impressed by this bold
assertion of my chum, "tell us, mate, wot they's like."
This was enough for Mick.
"Ye won't be froightened, sure," he began, in a very solemn tone, the
more to impress the anxious listener, "if Oi'm afther tillin' ye the
whole thruth, now?"
"Frightened! No," replied Joblins defiantly, but looking nervous all
the same. "I ain't so soon frightened as that, Mick!"
"All roight, me joker," said Mick. "Oi ownly thort ez how Oi'd not take
ye onywheres, ye know; but, faith, ez Oi say ye're so brave a chap,
Oi'll now carry on an' till ye all about a raal banshee Oi saw t'other
noight."
Joblins moved uneasily on his seat.
"What!" he cried. "Yer doan't mean aboard this yere ship?"
"Ay, faith," said Mick coolly; "it wor aboord this virry ship,
begorrah!"
"Lor'!" stammered out `greeny,' whose face we could see was quite pale
from the light of the ship's lantern near, it having got dark now on the
lower deck through the closing in of the evening early, we being still
in tropical latitudes. "I thort them things only came on land."
"That's where you're wrong, Joblins," put in Harris, his old tormentor,
backing up Mick most effectively in his attempt at taking a rise out of
the yokel. "Spirits aboard ship is pertic'lerly partial to water, as
every one knows!"
Passing by this ironical allusion of Harris to the current belief of all
hands anent the watering of the men's grog by the steward, which was
received with much favour by those standing round, Mick went on as
gravely as a judge.
"Yis, sor, it wor aboord this viry ship thet Oi sayd me last spirrit,
sure," said he. "Lit me say--it moost hev bin a wake, ay, or mebbe
t'wor longer agone than thet. Oi wor a-coomin' oop the forepake afther
dark, jist ez it mebbe now. Ye knows the forepake, Joblins?"
"Ye-e-es," stuttered out `greeny,' his jaw dropping with fright, and his
mouth open as big as a teacup. "I--I--I knows the forepeak, mate."
"Will, thin," continued Mick, "ez Oi came out on dick oop the fore-
hatchway, be the powers, I says, sure, a tirrible big black thing roight
foreninst me, wid its long arrums stritched oot on ayther soide; an'
whin Oi looked oop fur to say if the onairthly craychur hed ony hid on
him--"
"Lor'!" cried Joblins, interrupting him at this thrilling point, all
agog with excitement; "what did you see, mate?"
"Faith," replied my chum, with a grin, "the poor craychur hed no hid at
all, at all, sure! Begorrah, all he hed, sure, wor a spud-net, same as
ye titched yer sicond 'lowance ov grog t'other day wid, Misther Joblins;
an' this wor stuck atop ov wun ov the min's oilskins thet he'd hoong oot
fur to dhry in the fore rigging. Thet wor the spirrit I sayd."
The roar of the boatswain's mate calling `all hands' to make sail, at
this juncture drowned the general laugh that went round the mess at poor
Joblins' expense; and, exchanging the warm atmosphere of the lower deck
for the boisterous weather above, we were soon engaged in the more
arduous task of pulling ropes than other people's legs!
We had run some distance scudding before the gale; and, as the
navigating officer thought that we were now pretty well beyond the risk
of experiencing any further ill effects from the stormy nor'-easter, the
commodore made up his mind to utilise it and proceed on our voyage home.
So setting our topsails double-reefed again and bracing round the yards
on a bowline, we shaped a course for the Azores or Western Islands; and
getting into calmer latitudes ere morning, were able to make all plain
sail again.
On the second day after this we had an awful thunderstorm, in which the
lightning flashed from all points of the compass, and heaven's artillery
pealed as if the sky was bursting asunder.
This was followed by a deluge of rain, which washed our decks cleaner
than they had been since we left our home port, though the first
lieutenant was pretty sharp about seeing them scrubbed and washed down
daily.
The same afternoon, when it had cleared up again, the sun coming out and
the waves calming down, our lookout-man aloft in the foretop sighted
something in the distance.
"Sail ho!" he cried, "on our lee bow."
Every eye was cocked as we peered over the bulwarks, and every ear
strained to catch what followed.
"Where away?" hailed the commodore, who was walking up and down aft,
taking a constitutional after his lunch, I suppose. "What do you make
it out to be?"
"A boat adrift, sir, I think," replied the lookout-man, stopping to have
another good look at the object. "It's well away on our lee bow, sir,
and we're passing it abeam now."
"Very good, my man," said the commodore; and, turning to the officer of
the watch, he added, "Square the yards, Mr Osborne, and we'll run down
and see what it is."
This order was soon carried out; when, with our sticks braced round to
the brisk breeze, which had shifted to the westward since the thunder-
storm, we were soon bowling down before it, our sails bellied out to
their utmost in the direction indicated by the lookout-man in the
foretop, who was now aided by the eyes of half a dozen midshipmen or
more, all eagerly scanning the horizon ahead with all sorts of
telescopes and binoculars.
"Lookout-man!" hailed the commodore after a bit, "how does the boat bear
now?"
"Dead on the weather bow, sir," returned the man the next instant.
"We're about a couple o' mile off her, sir."
The commodore then addressed the quarter-master aft.
"Luff up!" he cried--"half a point will do; and, Mr Osborne, take a
pull at your lee braces. That will do--steady!"
The ship having good way upon her, we soon overhauled the drifting boat,
which we could make out presently quite clearly from the deck.
Nearer and nearer we approached it, until we could look down right into
it and see a number of figures, all of whom, however, were motionless.
"Begorrah!" cried Mick, who stood near me in the fore-chains, ready with
a rope to chuck down into the little craft as we surged alongside it, as
indeed were several others also, like prepared, forwards; "they've bin
havin' a divvle ov a row, or foightin', or somethin', sure; fur Tom,
look thare, me bhoy--can't ye say some soords or a pair of cutlashes or
somethin' like 'em oonder the afther-thwart theer?"