The next morning, in my watch below, I had a look at the places where that strange thing had come aboard, and left the ship; but I found nothing unusual, and no clue to help me to understand the mystery of the strange man.
For several days after that, all went quietly; though I prowled about the decks at night, trying to discover anything fresh that might tend to throw some light on the matter. I was careful to say nothing to any one about the thing I had seen. In any case, I felt sure I should only have been laughed at.
Several nights passed away in this manner, and I was no nearer to an understanding of the affair. And then, in the middle watch, something happened.
It was my wheel. Tammy, one of the first voyage ’prentices, was keeping time — walking up and down the lee side of the poop. The Second Mate was forrard, leaning over the break of the poop, smoking. The weather still continued fine, and the moon, though declining, was sufficiently powerful to make every detail about the poop, stand out distinctly. Three bells had gone, and I’ll admit I was feeling sleepy. Indeed, I believe I must have dozed, for the old packet steered very easily, and there was precious little to do, beyond giving her an odd spoke now and again. And then, all at once, it seemed to me that I heard someone calling my name, softly. I could not be certain; and first I glanced forrard to where the Second stood, smoking, and from him, I looked into the binnacle. The ship’s head was right on her course, and I felt easier. Then, suddenly, I heard it again. There was no doubt about it this time, and I glanced to leeward. There I saw Tammy reaching over the steering gear, his hand out, in the act of trying to touch my arm. I was about to ask him what the devil he wanted, when he held up his finger for silence, and pointed forrard along the lee side of the poop. In the dim light, his face showed palely, and he seemed much agitated. For a few seconds, I stared in the direction he indicated, but could see nothing.
“What is it?” I asked in an undertone, after a couple of moments’ further ineffectual peering. “I can’t see anything.”
“H’sh!” he muttered, hoarsely, without looking in my direction. Then, all at once, with a quick little gasp, he sprang across the wheel-box, and stood beside me, trembling. His gaze appeared to follow the movements of something I could not see.
I must say that I was startled. His movement had shown such terror; and the way he stared to leeward made me think he saw something uncanny.
“What the deuce is up with you?” I asked, sharply. And then I remembered the Second Mate. I glanced forrard to where he lounged. His back was still towards us, and he had not seen Tammy. Then I turned to the boy.
“For goodness sake, get to looard before the Second sees you!” I said. “If you want to say anything, say it across the wheel-box. You’ve been dreaming.”
Even as I spoke, the little beggar caught at my sleeve with one hand; and, pointing across to the log-reel with the other, screamed: “He’s coming! He’s coming —” At this instant, the Second Mate came running aft, singing out to know what was the matter. Then, suddenly, crouching under the rail near the log-reel, I saw something that looked like a man; but so hazy and unreal, that I could scarcely say I saw anything. Yet, like a flash, my thoughts ripped back to the silent figure I had seen in the flicker of the moonlight, a week earlier.
The Second Mate reached me, and I pointed, dumbly; and yet, as I did so, it was with the knowledge that he would not be able to see what I saw. (Queer, wasn’t it?) And then, almost in a breath, I lost sight of the thing, and became aware that Tammy was hugging my knees.
The Second continued to stare at the log-reel for a brief instant; then he turned to me, with a sneer.
“Been asleep, the pair of you, I suppose!” Then, without waiting for my denial, he told Tammy to go to hell out of it and stop his noise, or he’d boot him off the poop.
After that, he walked forrard to the break of the poop, and lit his pipe, again — walking forrard and aft every few minutes, and eyeing me, at times, I thought, with a strange, half-doubtful, half-puzzled look.
Later, as soon as I was relieved, I hurried down to the ’prentice’s berth. I was anxious to speak to Tammy. There were a dozen questions that worried me, and I was in doubt what I ought to do. I found him crouched on a sea-chest, his knees up to his chin, and his gaze fixed on the doorway, with a frightened stare. I put my head into the berth, and he gave a gasp; then he saw who it was, and his face relaxed something of its strained expression.
He said: “Come in,” in a low voice, which he tried to steady; and I stepped over the wash-board, and sat down on a chest, facing him.
“What was it?” he asked; putting his feet down on to the deck, and leaning forward. “For God’s sake, tell me what it was!”
His voice had risen, and I put up my hand to warn him.
“H’sh!” I said. “You’ll wake the other fellows.”
He repeated his question, but in a lower tone. I hesitated, before answering him. I felt, all at once, that it might be better to deny all knowledge — to say I hadn’t seen anything unusual. I thought quickly, and made answer on the turn of the moment.
“What was what?” I said. “That’s just the thing I’ve come to ask you. A pretty pair of fools you made of the two of us up on the poop just now, with your hysterical tomfoolery.”
I concluded my remark in a tone of anger.
“I didn’t!” he answered, in a passionate whisper. “You know I didn’t. You know you saw it yourself. You pointed it out to the Second Mate. I saw you.”
The little beggar was nearly crying between fear, and vexation at my assumed unbelief.
“Rot!” I replied. “You know jolly well you were sleeping in your time-keeping. You dreamed something and woke up suddenly. You were off your chump.”
I was determined to reassure him, if possible; though, goodness! I wanted assurance myself. If he had known of that other thing, I had seen down on the maindeck, what then?
“I wasn’t asleep, any more than you were,” he said, bitterly. “And you know it. You’re just fooling me. The ship’s haunted.”
“What!” I said, sharply.
“She’s haunted,” he said, again. “She’s haunted.”
“Who says so?” I inquired, in a tone of unbelief.
“I do! And you know it. Everybody knows it; but they don’t more than half believe it . . . I didn’t, until tonight.”
“Damned rot!” I answered. “That’s all a blooming old shellback’s yarn. She’s no more haunted than I am.”
“It’s not damned rot,’ he replied, totally unconvinced. “And it’s not an old shellback’s yarn . . . Why won’t you say you saw it?” he cried, growing almost tearfully excited, and raising his voice again.
I warned him not to wake the sleepers.
“Why won’t you say that you saw it?” he repeated.
I got up from the chest, and went towards the door.
“You’re a young idiot!” I said. “And I should advise you not to go gassing about like this, round the decks. Take my tip, and turn-in and get a sleep. You’re talking dotty. Tomorrow you’ll perhaps feel what an unholy ass you’ve made of yourself.”
I stepped over the washboard, and left him. I believe he followed me to the door to say something further; but I was half-way forrard by then.
For the next couple of days, I avoided him as much as possible, taking care never to let him catch me alone. I was determined, if possible, to convince him that he had been mistaken in supposing that he had seen anything that night. Yet, after all, it was little enough use, as you will soon see. For, on the night of the second day, there was a further extraordinary development, that made denial on my part useless.
Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:55