WHAT WE SAW AND WHAT WE HEARD
“WELL, I’m blowed!”
The simple ejaculation was Seal’s, but the words of the sentence were
most expressive.
The strange object was now but a few cable lengths of us, and certainly
the skipper’s surprise was shared by every one of us. Even the
blackened, half-naked stokers had emerged on deck and stood gazing at it
with wide-open eyes.
Job Seal, the big, roaring man, dauntless of every thing, stood leaning
over the bridge and glaring aghast at his discovery. And well he might,
for surely no similar object sailed the sea in these modern days.
In the sea, close behind one another, rode two wooden houses,
three-storeyed, and having big square windows of thick glass. So near
were we to it that now, for the first time, I could distinguish that
there was a submerged connexion between the two objects above the
surface. Then, in a flash, the astounding truth dawned upon me. It was
an ancient ship of that curious Elizabethan build, like those I had seen
in pictures of the Spanish Armada!
From the high bows there projected a battered figure-head, shaped like
some marine monstrosity, while beyond the submerged deck rose the high
stern, from which jutted three projections, each farther over the water
than the others. At such close quarters I could see that out of the roof
of both houses stood the stumps of masts, but there was not a vestige of
cordage.
The strangest fact of all, however, was that everywhere, even over the
roof of the high bow and stern, were barnacles, sponges, and shell-fish
of all descriptions, while enormous bands of brown seaweed streamed and
flapped with the wind. A tangle of marine plants was everywhere, matted,
brown and green for the most part, and so luxurious that almost every
part of the mysterious vessel was completely covered. The shells, slime,
and seaweed certainly indicated that the strange ship had reposed at the
bottom of the sea for many a long year, and the uncanny sight caused
considerable misgivings among the forecastle hands.
The barnacles and shell-fish had not attached themselves to the windows,
hence the outline of the latter was still preserved, but over everything
else was a dense slimy tangle a foot or so thick, the higher parts
half-dried by the wind, while a quantity of seaweed floated around the
hull in long waving masses. Water-logged, she rolled and pitched
helplessly in the troubled waters, so that to me, unaccustomed to the
sea, it seemed as though she must topple over. Surely it was one of the
strangest sights that any eye had witnessed.
A derelict is always of interest alike to sailor and to landsman, but it
assuredly does not happen to many to discover a craft that has been lost
to human ken for at least three hundred years.
“She’s a beauty, she is!” laughed Seal, although I could see that his
discovery somewhat troubled him, for, like all his class, he was full of
superstition. “Wonder what her cargo is?”
“Corpses,” suggested Thorpe. “She’s only bobbed up lately, I should say,
from her lovely shroud of weeds.”
“Perhaps there may be something on board worth having,” remarked the
captain reflectively. “She’s a mystery, anyway, and we ought to solve
it.”
“Yes,” I said eagerly. “I’m ready to go on board and investigate. Lower
a boat, captain, and let’s see what’s inside.”
Seal glanced at the high sea and shook his head dubiously.
“Beg pardon, sir!” shouted the man Dicky Dunn up to the captain,
speaking between his hands. “There’s a face at one o’ them attic windows
in the stern. It only showed for a moment, and then disappeared—an
awful white face!”
“Dicky’s got another touch of his old complaint,” remarked one of the
stokers philosophically; but the statement caused all eyes to be turned
to the row of small square windows.
“Ghosts aboard!” remarked Thorpe. “If I were you, cap’n, I’d have
nothing to do with that hulking craft. She’s a floatin’ coffin, that’s
what she is.”
“You’re a white-livered coward, sonny,” roared Seal. “I’ve discovered
Noah’s Ark, and I mean to see what’s aboard her.” Then he shouted an
order for a boat to be lowered, adding in a meaning tone: “If any man’s
too chicken-hearted to board her let him stay here.”
The effect was magical. Sailors hate to be dubbed cowards, and every man
was in an instant eager to face the tempestuous sea and explore.
“Dunn!” cried the skipper. “Are you certain you saw a face, or is it
your groggy imagination?”
“I saw a face quite distinct, sir. It was grinning at us like, and then
vanished. I’ll bet my month’s pay that there’s somebody aboard—or else
it’s spirits.”
“Alcohol, more like,” grunted Seal, beneath his breath, as he turned to
the helmsman and ordered him to keep a circular course round the
water-logged hulk. The propeller had stopped, and we were now rising and
falling in the long sweep of the green water.
“Come on, doctor,” Seal said, after he had ordered Thorpe to take
command, and added a chaffing remark about Davy Jones and his proverbial
locker; “let’s go and see for ourselves.”
So together we descended to the deck, and after several unsuccessful
efforts to enter the boat, I at last found myself being tossed
helplessly towards the high seaweed-covered walls that rolled ever and
anon at a most fearsome angle.
The excitement was intense, for the boarding of the mysterious vessel
was an extremely perilous undertaking, and it was a long time before one
of the men could obtain a foothold on the slippery weeds. At last,
however, the boat was made fast, and one by one we clambered up a patch
of barnacles on to the roof of the stern. At that height, and rolling as
we were, our position was by no means an enviable one. We sank to our
knees in the brown, slimy seaweed that covered the roof, and at Seal’s
order the men, with axes, began chopping away the growth and digging
down to the timbers in search of hatches.
At last we found them, but they seemed to have been hermetically closed,
and it was a long time before saw and hatchet made any impression on the
teak. Still the six of us worked with a will, and in half an hour we
succeeded in breaking our way into the vessel.
As we peered down into the gloom of the interior there arose a dank
odour of mustiness, and I noticed that even the fearless Seal himself
hesitated to descend and explore. When, however, I announced an
intention of making the attempt, the others with one accord quickly
volunteered to accompany me.
Through the hole I lowered myself, expecting to discover some stairway,
but my legs only swung in air with the rolling of the hulk. My head
being below the roof, however, I soon discovered in the dim light that
the place was a large, wide cabin with a long oaken table down the
centre. My feet were only a foot from the table, so I dropped and
shouted to the others above to follow.
The place, with its panelled walls and deep window-seats, was more like
an old-fashioned dining-room in a country house than a ship’s saloon.
The table, a big heavy one, was handsomely carved, and there were high
seats with twisted backs, covered with faded velvet, while as I moved I
stumbled over some pieces of armour—helmets, breastplates, and swords,
all red with rust. There were a few bones, too, which at a glance I saw
belonged to a human skeleton.
The place had evidently been air and water tight, for although submerged
for years the water had not entered. On the contrary, the bodies of
those confined therein had crumbled into dust.
Seal and his men, who joined me one after the other, stood aghast,
giving vent to exclamations of surprise, mingled, of course, with strong
language.
Knowing something of antiquities, I made an examination of the furniture
and armour. On the rusted sword-blades was stamped the name “Tomas,”
with the sign of the cross, by which I knew them to be the best-tempered
steel of Toledo, and the date of the armour I put at about the end of
the sixteenth century.
“Strike me if it ain’t like a bloomin’ museum, doctor!” Seal remarked,
pressing the point of a sword to the floor to try its temper.
“A most remarkable find,” I said. “As far as I can see at present it’s
an old Spanish ship, but where it’s been all these years no one can
tell.”
“It’s been down below, doctor, you can bet your boots on that,” Seal
replied. “Been a mermaid’s palace, perhaps!”
The place wherein we stood was evidently the chief saloon. The ghastly
bones on the floor interested me, as a medical man, the more so because
one of the skeletons—and there were three—was certainly that of a man,
who, when alive, must have stood over six feet high.
I gave that as my opinion, whereupon one of the horny-handed men
hazarded the remark that it was “a giant’s Sunday-going yacht.”
One of the men who had sailed in the _Seahorse_—for such we afterwards
discovered her name to be—had assuredly been a giant in stature, for I
discovered his breastplate and sword, and certainly they were the most
formidable I had ever seen. He was no doubt the commander, judging from
the inlaid gold upon the armour, which still glistened, notwithstanding
the rust.
Wooden platters, rusty knives, and leathern mugs, lay on the floor,
having evidently been swept from the table when the vessel had heeled
over and sunk, while there were the remains of high-backed chairs,
decayed and broken, sliding on the floor with each roll of the unsteady
craft.
At the farther end of the curious old cabin was a heavy oaken door, and
passing beyond it we entered a smaller cabin projecting over the stern
with three little square windows. On the panelled wall hung a helmet and
sword, together with a time-mellowed portrait of a sour-faced man with
fair pointed beard and ruffle. On the floor lay an old blunderbuss, and
at one side, fixed against the wall, was a small oak desk for writing;
while on the other, secured to the floor with huge clamps, were three
great iron-bound and iron-studded chests, securely locked and heavily
bolted.
“Treasure!” gasped Seal. “By Christopher! there may be gold ducats in
them there boxes! Let’s have ’em open. Now lads,” he cried, bustling up
the men, “’er’s your chance to go a-gold finding! Get to work, quick.”
The order to open the boxes was easier given than executed. One man
searched in vain for the keys, while the others worked away till the
perspiration rolled off their brows, and yet the strong boxes resisted
all their efforts. Presently, however, Dicky Dunn discovered a long bar
of iron, and the four men, using it as a lever, managed to wrench the
lid of the first box off its hinges. To our utter disgust, however, we
found it empty.
The second chest did not take quite so long as the first to force open,
and as the lid was raised loud cries of joy broke from all our lips.
It was filled to the brim with golden coin!
I examined some and found them to be old Italian, Spanish, and English
pieces—the latter mostly bearing the effigies of Queen Elizabeth and
King Edward VI.
The excitement had now risen to fever heat. The men would have filled
their pockets with the gold, there and then, had not Job Seal drawn a
revolver and in a roaring voice threatened to shoot the first man dead
who touched a coin.
But the gluttony of gold was upon them, and they attacked the third box
with such violence that it was open in a jiffy.
No gold was, however, within—only a big bag of thick hide heavily
riveted with copper, and securely fastened with bolt and lock.
“Bank-notes in that, perhaps!” remarked the skipper excitedly, ignorant
of the fact that there were no bank-notes in the days when that curious
craft had sailed the ocean. “Break it open, boys. Look alive!”
“Be-low!” cried old Dicky Dunn, and as his shipmates drew aside he
raised his axe and with one well-directed blow broke off the rusted bolt
and in an instant half-a-dozen hands were plunged into the leathern
sack.
What they brought forth was certainly disappointing—merely two folded
pieces of yellow, time-stained parchment, one having a big seal of lead
hanging to it by a cord, and the other a small seal of yellow wax
attached to a strip of the parchment itself.
The skipper glanced at them in disgust, and then handed them to me, as a
man of some book-learning, to decipher.
I had steadied myself with my back fixed to the panelling and was
examining the first of the documents, when of a sudden we were all of us
startled by hearing a weird sound which sent through us a thrill of
alarm.
It was plain and unmistakable—a deep, cavernous human voice!
Every man of us stood silent, looked at each other, and held his breath.
“Hark! Why, that’s the ghost wot Dicky Dunn saw!” gasped one of the men
with scared face. “I’ve had about enough of this, mates. It ain’t no
place for us here.”
I stood listening. There was undoubtedly yet another mystery on board
that strange, uncanny vessel that the sea had so unaccountably given up.