The Ghost Pirates, Page 2

  I

  _The Figure Out of the Sea_

  He began without any circumlocution.

  I joined the _Mortzestus_ in 'Frisco. I heard before I signed on, thatthere were some funny yarns floating round about her; but I was prettynearly on the beach, and too jolly anxious to get away, to worry abouttrifles. Besides, by all accounts, she was right enough so far as gruband treatment went. When I asked fellows to give it a name, theygenerally could not. All they could tell me, was that she was unlucky,and made thundering long passages, and had no more than a fair share ofdirty weather. Also, that she had twice had the sticks blown out of her,and her cargo shifted. Besides all these, a heap of other things thatmight happen to any packet, and would not be comfortable to run into.Still, they were the ordinary things, and I was willing enough to riskthem, to get home. All the same, if I had been given the chance, Ishould have shipped in some other vessel as a matter of preference.

  When I took my bag down, I found that they had signed on the rest of thecrowd. You see, the "home lot" cleared out when they got into 'Frisco,that is, all except one young fellow, a cockney, who had stuck by theship in port. He told me afterwards, when I got to know him, that heintended to draw a pay-day out of her, whether any one else did, or not.

  The first night I was in her, I found that it was common talk among theother fellows, that there was something queer about the ship. They spokeof her as if it were an accepted fact that she was haunted; yet they alltreated the matter as a joke; all, that is, except the young cockney--Williams--who, instead of laughing at their jests on the subject, seemedto take the whole matter seriously.

  This made me rather curious. I began to wonder whether there was, afterall, some truth underlying the vague stories I had heard; and I took thefirst opportunity to ask him whether he had any reasons for believingthat there was anything in the yarns about the ship.

  At first he was inclined to be a bit offish; but, presently, he cameround, and told me that he did not know of any particular incident whichcould be called unusual in the sense in which I meant. Yet that, at thesame time, there were lots of little things which, if you put themtogether, made you think a bit. For instance, she always made such longpassages and had so much dirty weather--nothing but that and calms andhead winds. Then, other things happened; sails that he knew, himself,had been properly stowed, were always blowing adrift _at night_. Andthen he said a thing that surprised me.

  "There's too many bloomin' shadders about this 'ere packet; they getsonter yer nerves like nothin' as ever I seen before in me nat'ral."

  He blurted it all out in a heap, and I turned round and looked at him.

  "Too many shadows!" I said. "What on earth do you mean?" But he refusedto explain himself or tell me anything further--just shook his head,stupidly, when I questioned him. He seemed to have taken a sudden, sulkyfit. I felt certain that he was acting dense, purposely. I believe thetruth of the matter is that he was, in a way, ashamed of having lethimself go like he had, in speaking out his thoughts about "shadders."That type of man may think things at times; but he doesn't often putthem into words. Anyhow, I saw it was no use asking any furtherquestions; so I let the matter drop there. Yet, for several daysafterwards, I caught myself wondering, at times, what the fellow hadmeant by "shadders."

  We left 'Frisco next day, with a fine, fair wind, that seemed a bit likeputting the stopper on the yarns I had heard about the ship's ill luck.And yet--

  He hesitated a moment, and then went on again.