The Ghost Pirates

  VIII

  _After the Coming of the Mist_

  After the coming of the mist, things seemed to develop pretty quickly.In the following two or three days a good deal happened.

  On the night of the day on which the Skipper had sent me away from thewheel, it was our watch on deck from eight o' clock to twelve, and mylook-out from ten to twelve.

  As I paced slowly to and fro across the fo'cas'le head, I was thinkingabout the affair of the morning. At first, my thoughts were about theOld Man. I cursed him thoroughly to myself, for being a pig-headed oldfool, until it occurred to me that if I had been in his place, and comeon deck to find the ship almost aback, and the fellow at the wheelstaring out across the sea, instead of attending to his business, Ishould most certainly have kicked up a thundering row. And then, I hadbeen an ass to tell him about the ship. I should never have done such athing, if I had not been a bit adrift. Most likely the old chap thoughtI was cracked.

  I ceased to bother my head about him, and fell to wondering why theSecond Mate had looked at me so queerly in the morning. Did he guessmore of the truth than I supposed? And if that were the case, why had herefused to listen to me?

  After that, I went to puzzling about the mist. I had thought a greatdeal about it, during the day. One idea appealed to me, very strongly.It was that the actual, visible mist was a materialised expression of anextraordinarily subtle atmosphere, in which we were moving.

  Abruptly, as I walked backwards and forwards, taking occasional glancesover the sea (which was almost calm), my eye caught the glow of a lightout in the darkness. I stood still, and stared. I wondered whether itwas the light of a vessel. In that case we were no longer enveloped inthat extraordinary atmosphere. I bent forward, and gave the thing mymore immediate attention. I saw then that it was undoubtedly the greenlight of a vessel on our port bow. It was plain that she was bent oncrossing our bows. What was more, she was dangerously near--the size andbrightness of her light showed that. She would be close-hauled, while wewere going free, so that, of course, it was our place to get out of herway. Instantly, I turned and, putting my hands up to my mouth, hailedthe Second Mate:

  "Light on the port bow, Sir."

  The next moment his hail came back:

  "Whereabouts?"

  "He must be blind," I said to myself.

  "About two points on the bow, Sir," I sung out.

  Then I turned to see whether she had shifted her position at all. Yet,when I came to look, there was no light visible. I ran forrard to thebows, and leant over the rail, and stared; but there was nothing--absolutely nothing except the darkness all about us. For perhaps a fewseconds I stood thus, and a suspicion swept across me, that the wholebusiness was practically a repetition of the affair of the morning.Evidently, the impalpable something that invested the ship, had thinnedfor an instant, thus allowing me to see the light ahead. Now, it hadclosed again. Yet, whether I could see, or not, I did not doubt the factthat, there was a vessel ahead, and very close ahead, too. We might runon top of her any minute. My only hope was that, seeing we were notgetting out of her way, she had put her helm up, so as to let us pass,with the intention of then crossing under our stern. I waited, prettyanxiously, watching and listening. Then, all at once, I heard stepscoming along the deck, forrard, and the 'prentice, whose time-keeping itwas, came up on to the fo'cas'le head.

  "The Second Mate says he can't see any light Jessop," he said, comingover to where I stood. "Whereabouts is it?"

  "I don't know," I answered. "I've lost sight of it myself. It was agreen light, about a couple of points on the port bow. It seemed fairlyclose."

  "Perhaps their lamp's gone out," he suggested, after peering out prettyhard into the night for a minute or so.

  "Perhaps," I said.

  I did not tell him that the light had been so close that, even in thedarkness, we should _now_ have been able to see the ship herself.

  "You're quite sure it was a light, and not a star?" he asked,doubtfully, after another long stare.

  "Oh! no," I said. "It may have been the moon, now I come to think aboutit."

  "Don't rot," he replied. "It's easy enough to make a mistake. What shallI say to the Second Mate?"

  "Tell him it's disappeared, of course!"

  "Where to?" he asked.

  "How the devil should I know?" I told him. "Don't ask silly questions!"

  "All right, keep your rag in," he said, and went aft to report to theSecond Mate.

  Five minutes later, it might have been, I saw the light again. It wasbroad on the bow, and told me plainly enough that she had up with herhelm to escape being run down. I did not wait a moment; but sung out tothe Second Mate that there was a green light about four points on theport bow. By Jove! it must have been a close shave. The light did not_seem_ to be more than about a hundred yards away. It was fortunate thatwe had not much way through the water.

  "Now," I thought to myself, "the Second will see the thing. And perhapsMr. Blooming 'prentice will be able to give the star its proper name."

  Even as the thought came into my head, the light faded and vanished; andI caught the Second Mate's voice.

  "Whereaway?" he was singing out.

  "It's gone again, Sir," I answered.

  A minute later, I heard him coming along the deck.

  He reached the foot of the starboard ladder.

  "Where are you, Jessop?" he inquired.

  "Here, Sir," I said, and went to the top of the weather ladder.

  He came up slowly on to the fo'cas'le head.

  "What's this you've been singing out about a light?" he asked. "Justpoint out exactly where it was you last saw it."

  This I did, and he went over to the port rail, and stared away into thenight; but without seeing anything.

  "It's gone, Sir," I ventured to remind him. "Though I've seen it twicenow--once, about a couple of points on the bow, and this last time,broad away on the bow; but it disappeared both times, almost at once."

  "I don't understand it at all, Jessop," he said, in a puzzled voice."Are you sure it was a ship's light?"

  "Yes, Sir. A green light. It was quite close."

  "I don't understand," he said again. "Run aft and ask the 'prentice topass you down my night glasses. Be as smart as you can."

  "i, i, Sir," I replied, and ran aft.

  In less than a minute, I was back with his binoculars; and, with them,he stared for some time at the sea to leeward.

  All at once he dropped them to his side, and faced round on me with asudden question:

  "Where's she gone to? If she's shifted her bearing as quickly as allthat, she must be precious close. We should be able to see her spars andsails, or her cabin light, or her binnacle light, or something!"

  "It's queer, Sir," I assented.

  "Damned queer," he said. "So damned queer that I'm inclined to thinkyou've made a mistake."

  "No, Sir. I'm certain it was a light."

  "Where's the ship then?" he asked.

  "I can't say, Sir. That's just what's been puzzling me."

  The Second said nothing in reply; but took a couple of quick turnsacross the fo'cas'le head--stopping at the port rail, and taking anotherlook to leeward through his night glasses. Perhaps a minute he stoodthere. Then, without a word, he went down the lee ladder, and away aftalong the main deck to the poop.

  "He's jolly well puzzled," I thought to myself. "Or else he thinks I'vebeen imagining things." Either way, I guessed he'd think that.

  In a little, I began to wonder whether, after all, he had any idea ofwhat might be the truth. One minute, I would feel certain he had; andthe next, I was just as sure that he guessed nothing. I got one of myfits of asking myself whether it would not have been better to have toldhim everything. It seemed to me that he must have seen sufficient tomake him inclined to listen to me. And yet, I could not by any means becertain. I might only have been making an ass of myself, in his eyes. Orset him thinking I was dotty.

  I was walking about the fo'cas'le head, feel
ing like this, when I sawthe light for the third time. It was very bright and big, and I couldsee it move, as I watched. This again showed me that it must be veryclose.

  "Surely," I thought, "the Second Mate must see it now, for himself."

  I did not sing out this time, right away. I thought I would let theSecond see for himself that I had not been mistaken. Besides, I was notgoing to risk its vanishing again, the instant I had spoken. For quitehalf a minute, I watched it, and there was no sign of its disappearing.Every moment, I expected to hear the Second Mate's hail, showing that hehad spotted it at last; but none came.

  I could stand it no longer, and I ran to the rail, on the after part ofthe fo'cas'le head.

  "Green light a little abaft the beam, Sir!" I sung out, at the top of myvoice.

  But I had waited too long. Even as I shouted, the light blurred andvanished.

  I stamped my foot and swore. The thing was making a fool of me. Yet, Ihad a faint hope that those aft had seen it just before it disappeared;but this I knew was vain, directly I heard the Second's voice.

  "Light be damned!" he shouted.

  Then he blew his whistle, and one of the men ran aft, out of thefo'cas'le, to see what it was he wanted.

  "Whose next look-out is it?" I heard him ask.

  "Jaskett's, Sir."

  "Then tell Jaskett to relieve Jessop at once. Do you hear?"

  "Yes, Sir," said the man, and came forrard.

  In a minute, Jaskett stumbled up onto the fo'cas'le head.

  "What's up, mate?" he asked sleepily.

  "It's that fool of a Second Mate!" I said, savagely. "I've reported alight to him three times, and, because the blind fool can't see it, he'ssent you up to relieve me!"

  "Where is it, mate?" he inquired.

  He looked round at the dark sea.

  "I don't see no light," he remarked, after a few moments.

  "No," I said. "It's gone."

  "Eh?" he inquired.

  "It's gone!" I repeated, irritably.

  He turned and regarded me silently, through the dark.

  "I'd go an' 'ave a sleep, mate," he said, at length. "I've been that waymeself. Ther's nothin' like a snooze w'en yer gets like that."

  "What!" I said. "Like what?"

  "It's all right, mate. Yer'll be all right in ther mornin'. Don't yerworry 'bout me." His tone was sympathetic.

  "Hell!" was all I said, and walked down off the fo'cas'le head. Iwondered whether the old fellow thought I was going silly.

  "Have a sleep, by Jove!" I muttered to myself. "I wonder who'd feel likehaving a sleep after what I've seen and stood today!"

  I felt rotten, with no one understanding what was really the matter. Iseemed to be all alone, through the things I had learnt. Then thethought came to me to go aft and talk the matter over with Tammy. I knewhe would be able to understand, of course; and it would be such arelief.

  On the impulse, I turned and went aft, along the deck to the 'prentices'berth. As I neared the break of the poop, I looked up and saw the darkshape of the Second Mate, leaning over the rail above me.

  "Who's that?" he asked.

  "It's Jessop, Sir," I said.

  "What do you want in this part of the ship?" he inquired.

  "I'd come aft to speak to Tammy, Sir," I replied.

  "You go along forrard and turn-in," he said, not altogether unkindly. "Asleep will do you more good than yarning about. You know, you're gettingto fancy things too much!"

  "I'm sure I'm not, Sir! I'm perfectly well. I--"

  "That will do!" he interrupted, sharply. "You go and have a sleep."

  I gave a short curse, under my breath, and went slowly forrard. I wasgetting maddened with being treated as if I were not quite sane.

  "By God!" I said to myself. "Wait till the fools know what I know--justwait!"

  I entered the fo'cas'le, through the port doorway, and went across to mychest, and sat down. I felt angry and tired, and miserable.

  Quoin and Plummer were sitting close by, playing cards, and smoking.Stubbins lay in his bunk, watching them, and also smoking. As I satdown, he put his head forward over the bunk-board, and regarded me in acurious, meditative way.

  "What's hup with ther Second hoff?cer?" he asked, after a short stare.

  I looked at him, and the other two men looked up at me. I felt I shouldgo off with a bang, if I did not say something, and I let out prettystiffly, telling them the whole business. Yet, I had seen enough to knowthat it was no good trying to explain things; so I just told them theplain, bold facts, and left explanations as much alone as possible.

  "Three times, you say?" said Stubbins when I had finished.

  "Yes," I assented.

  "An' ther Old Man sent yer from ther wheel this mornin', 'cause yer'appened ter see a ship 'e couldn't," Plummer added in a reflectivetone.

  "Yes," I said, again.

  I thought I saw him look at Quoin, significantly; but Stubbins, Inoticed, looked only at me.

  "I reckon ther Second thinks you're a bit hoff colour," he remarked,after a short pause.

  "The Second Mate's a fool!" I said, with some bitterness. "A confoundedfool!"

  "I hain't so sure about that," he replied. "It's bound ter seem queerter him. I don't understand it myself--"

  He lapsed into silence, and smoked.

  "I carn't understand 'ow it is ther Second Mate didn't 'appen to spotit," Quoin said, in a puzzled voice.

  It seemed to me that Plummer nudged him to be quiet. It looked as ifPlummer shared the Second Mate's opinion, and the idea made me savage.But Stubbins's next remark drew my attention.

  "I don't hunderstand it," he said, again; speaking with deliberation."All ther same, ther Second should have savvied enough not to have slungyou hoff ther look-hout."

  He nodded his head, slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on my face.

  "How do you mean?" I asked, puzzled; yet with a vague sense that the manunderstood more, perhaps, than I had hitherto thought.

  "I mean what's ther Second so blessed cocksure about?"

  He took a draw at his pipe, removed it, and leant forward somewhat, overhis bunk-board.

  "Didn't he say nothin' ter you, after you came hoff ther look-hout?" heasked.

  "Yes," I replied; "he spotted me going aft. He told me I was getting toimagining things too much. He said I'd better come forrard and get asleep."

  "An' what did you say?"

  "Nothing. I came forrard."

  "Why didn't you bloomin' well harsk him if he weren't doin' therimaginin' trick when he sent us chasin' hup ther main, hafter thatbogyman of his?"

  "I never thought of it," I told him.

  "Well, yer ought ter have."

  He paused, and sat up in his bunk, and asked for a match.

  As I passed him my box, Quoin looked up from his game.

  "It might 'ave been a stowaway, yer know. Yer carn't say as it's everbeen proved as it wasn't."

  Stubbins passed the box back to me, and went on without noticing Quoin'sremark:

  "Told you to go an' have a snooze, did he? I don't hunderstand what he'sbluffin' at."

  "How do you mean, bluffing?" I asked.

  He nodded his head, sagely.

  "It's my hidea he knows you saw that light, just as bloomin' well as Ido."

  Plummer looked up from his game, at this speech; but said nothing.

  "Then _you_ don't doubt that I really saw it?" I asked, with a certainsurprise.

  "Not me," he remarked, with assurance. "You hain't likely ter make thatkind of mistake three times runnin'."

  "No," I said. "I _know_ I saw the light, right enough; but"--I hesitateda moment--"it's blessed queer."

  "It _is_ blessed queer!" he agreed. "It's damned queer! An' there's alot of other damn queer things happenin' aboard this packet lately."

  He was silent for a few seconds. Then he spoke suddenly:

  "It's not nat'ral, I'm damned sure of that much."

  He took a couple of draws at his pipe, and in the momentary
silence, Icaught Jaskett's voice, above us. He was hailing the poop.

  "Red light on the starboard quarter, Sir," I heard him sing out.

  "There you are," I said with a jerk of my head. "That's about where thatpacket I spotted, ought to be by now. She couldn't cross our bows, soshe up helm, and let us pass, and now she's hauled up again and goneunder our stern."

  I got up from the chest, and went to the door, the other threefollowing. As we stepped out on deck, I heard the Second Mate shoutingout, away aft, to know the whereabouts of the light.

  "By Jove! Stubbins," I said. "I believe the blessed thing's gone again."

  We ran to the starboard side, in a body, and looked over; but there wasno sign of a light in the darkness astern.

  "I carn't say as _I_ see any light," said Quoin.

  Plummer said nothing.

  I looked up at the fo'cas'le head. There, I could faintly distinguishthe outlines of Jaskett. He was standing by the starboard rail, with hishands up, shading his eyes, evidently staring towards the place where hehad last seen the light.

  "Where's she got to, Jaskett?" I called out.

  "I can't say, mate," he answered. "It's the most 'ellishly funny thingI've ever comed across. She were there as plain as me 'att one minnit,an' ther next she were gone--clean gone."

  I turned to Plummer.

  "What do you think about it, _now_?" I asked him.

  "Well," he said. "I'll admit I thought at first 'twere somethin' an'nothin'. I thought yer was mistaken; but it seems yer did seesomethin'."

  Away aft, we heard the sound of steps, along the deck.

  "Ther Second's comin' forrard for a hexplanation, Jaskett," Stubbinssung out. "You'd better go down an' change yer breeks."

  The Second Mate passed us, and went up the starboard ladder.

  "What's up now, Jaskett?" he said quickly. "Where is this light? Neitherthe 'prentice nor I can see it!"

  "Ther damn thing's clean gone, Sir," Jaskett replied.

  "Gone!" the Second Mate said. "Gone! What do you mean?"

  "She were there one minnit, Sir, as plain as me 'att, an' ther next,she'd gone."

  "That's a damn silly yarn to tell me!" the Second replied. "You don'texpect me to believe it, do you?"

  "It's Gospel trewth any'ow, Sir," Jaskett answered. "An' Jessop seen itjust ther same."

  He seemed to have added that last part as an afterthought. Evidently,the old beggar had changed his opinion as to my need for sleep.

  "You're an old fool, Jaskett," the Second said, sharply. "And that idiotJessop has been putting things into your silly old head."

  He paused, an instant. Then he continued:

  "What the devil's the matter with you all, that you've taken to thissort of game? You know very well that you saw no light! I sent Jessopoff the look-out, and then you must go and start the same game."

  "We 'aven't--" Jaskett started to say; but the Second silenced him.

  "Stow it!" he said, and turned and went down the ladder, passing usquickly, without a word.

  "Doesn't look to _me_, Stubbins," I said, "as though the Second didbelieve we've seen the light."

  "I hain't so sure," he answered. "He's a puzzler."

  The rest of the watch passed away quietly; and at eight bells I madehaste to turn-in, for I was tremendously tired.

  When we were called again for the four to eight watch on deck, I learntthat one of the men in the Mate's watch had seen a light, soon after wehad gone below, and had reported it, only for it to disappearimmediately. This, I found, had happened twice, and the Mate had got sowild (being under the impression that the man was playing the fool) thathe had nearly came to blows with him--finally ordering him off thelook-out, and sending another man up in his place. If this last man sawthe light, he took good care not to let the Mate know; so that thematter had ended there.

  And then, on the following night, before we had ceased to talk about thematter of the vanishing lights, something else occurred that temporarilydrove from my mind all memory of the mist, and the extraordinary, blindatmosphere it had seemed to usher.