THE GHOST OF THE OCEAN KING.

Press, Volume XLVI, Issue 7421, 21 September 1889, Page 2

THE GHOST OF THE OCEAN KING.

By the Captaih of tot Maintop StabBOARD. "Itell you, 'Anstey, she was just the very prettiest little girl ever I set eyes on. Clipper-built so to speak. My word, she was a spanker. I'm clean gone this time, my boy. That little blue-eyed girl np at 4she Cheringee did the job. Tell yoa what, old man, when I get a shin " *' Well,but, sir," I Interrupted ruthlessly. i Old Dicky Sampson, our first mate, was such a good-natured fellow you might say Anything to him and he was in a chronic State of falling in love, though luckily, 'perhaps, his affections were not confined to the same young woman. It was generally a case of " topsail sheets" with him, and I felt pretty certain that by the time we had crossed the line he would have entirely forgotten " that pretty little girl np at the Cheringee" as completely as he had forgotten the dark-eyed one he had made so much moan over at parting when-we* left the Port of London outward bound six months before. "Well, but, sir," I ventured to hint •* what about that other girl—the London one, X'nManf "Hang you, Anstey," said Sampson with emphasis, " arn't I telling you this is quite different—quite another thing altogether. Just listen for a moment now while I explain," ."'. ■ It required a good deal of effort to listen too, for it was a dirty night in the Bay of Bengali A regular gale was howling and shrieking through tbe rigging, and the Ship was scudding before it under topgallant sails. The Ocean King was a sailing ship, 2,000 tons burden, three days out from Calcutta —homeward bound, laden with jute.

: .. "pp r it's home—dearie home—it's home I long to be," ..sang the men for a shanty at their work, and I think we were all glad' after the three long, hot months at Calcutta to find ourselves fairly afloat once more. Dick Sampson, the first mate, was not perhaps', as glad as he ought to have been—his head Was full of the girl up at the Cheringee, and I, Bob Anstey, the third mate, didn't much care, certainly, whether we were outward or homeward bound, for my borne was in far-away Australia, and I knew tbe Ocean King wasn't at all likely to sail in that direction.

! The skipper hadaiwife in Plymouth, and I knew he was heartily longing to be home again; and as for the second mate, he was a inooney sort of chap, who was no sooner : afloat than, he wished himself ashore again. But the ordinary hand before the -mast Is a queersort of creature, and I very much-doubted whether any one of the tirfew, out of the whole thirty-three of thenv bad a home to goto in England or elsewhere, ior all they sang with such a •will, " Oh, it's home, dearie home," and put pathetic emphasis into their description of their longing for the "bonny north countree." There was one who had, I knew. I had not forgotten how tfce bosuns fair-haired young wife had comedown to the ship before she sailed on her, voyage, and dung to her grizzled, middle-aged husband, clung to him and kissed him, and, cried over him, and implored him to come back to her—to take care of himself and' come back to her. And then, as the tug hauled us off, I remem tiered bow she had stood there among the qheeting waving her handkerchief and, try ing to force back the tears that would come Into her pretty plue eyes. There.-was no one I cared particularly about to see mc off, so I watched her till she and all the reet of the crowd faded into one indistingmsbable blurred mass, and-then I turned and saw the bosun, a, tall, raw-boned Scotchman, furtively wiping his eyes with the back of his hand- '"■ "Itfs hard sir, main hard," he said apo- < legetically," to leave a wee bit thing like that all by her lane,? , and then encouraged a little, perhaps, by my sympathy, he told mc all about his wooing, and how that pretty little girl I had seen had taken him and loved him, grizzled old shellback as he was, and how this was to be his last voyage, for he couldn't bear to leave her alone* ai*d please God, in six months' time he'd be safest her side again, and she'd be safe srithhia bairn at her breast. How he Qsed to harp on that same old shanty. He waealwaya humming it in bis deep bass ■ . ': ■ . ... " And I thought how 13ailed when the cradle F<W&epretty\ittffl balje that has never seen its And if a lass she shall wear a golden riaa, Anditlie be a lad he ahaU live toeerveMa Withhui buckles and his boots and Ids.little Heihan wik*ti»e quarter-deck as his daddy Atid it's home! dearie home, oh IV* home I want -■■■•■ tebet ITy topsails are hoisted, and I must ou* to sea, and the Mb and the honay birchen They're'an agrowing green In the north countree. Oh it'a home,' dearie home! Ah, dear 1 the castles we boild and the plans we lay. and bow many of them com e to anythinel Whenever Bill Thompson got'• chance he talked to mc about nia boaay yoong wito and the child that was

coming, and all that he intended todowhen this, fcb last, voyage should be over. And it was over soonerthan he expected. Poor BUI Thompson, the best teaman on the Ocean King I Wβ were running down our easting oneatonny day In the beginning of February. The sea was running mountains high, and the wind, like some creature in pain, was shrieking and wailing through the rigging. Kvery moment it seemed to mc that the good ship muetg° %o the bottom, as sea after sea towered above as and threatened to engulf us, and yet she sprung forward just in time, and we were saved. Then one great green sea caught her and swept her fore and aft. As the tons* weight of water came tumbling on board I hung on to the bulwarks for dear life, and yeUeda hardly needed cry of warning fco the watch on deck. The bosun was close beside mc, and I saw him grab a grating which was washing past. Then the ship gave a lurch, and almost before * realised what was happening, grating and bo*s'un were swept overboard under my very eyes. I saw his white face turned despairingly up to the sky, and the pale, watery sunshine gleamed on his streaming oilskins, then the cruel sea swept him away to leeward, and I knew that never on this earth should we see our shipmate again, that the fair-haired wife might watch and wait and long, bat never would the bairn he had hoped for see its daddy till the sea shall give up her dead. It was useless to think of saving him ; we scarce dared hope to save ourselves, and when at last we had ridden out the gale safely we were hundreds of miles away from Uμ place where he had gone overboard. So we went on our voyage, and the boson was forgotten, as dead men are forgotten* whether on sea or land, and his memory was only revived for a brief space, when, on arrival at Calcutta, his gear was sold by auction at the capstan-head for the benefit of the poor young widow; and, for the honour of sailors be it told, brought at about ten times its value. I wrote home and broke the news as gently as I could to his wife, and then—well, I am no better than the rest of us, I suppose—so Thompson passed completely out of my thoughts, almost as if he had never been.

But we had scarcely east off from the tug, and were not a day's sail from Calcutta, when, much to my astonishment, his memory was revived amongst us. A rumour arose, how I know not, and first from one of the crew and then from another I heard that the ship was haunted, and haunted by the ghost of the poor bosun who had been lost overboard more than four months before, away to the southard of the stormy Cape of Good Hope. SaUorsareproverbiallysuperstitous, and it was in rain to protest, in vain to argue; the rumour spread like wild-fire, and before the day was out there was not a man in the fo'c's'le who was no* prepared to swear he had seen the ghost, and told of its doings in awe-struck and blood-curdling tones. It was a very orthodox ghost, I found on enquiry, a ghost arrayed all in white, which shivered and moaned and made its principal habitat right for'ard, somewhere about the fore-peak. It worried mc not a little, this ghost, the men were so scared about it, and I was puzzling my brains over it as I stood on the flying-bridge, closely wrapped up in my oilskins, nominally listening as my superior officer, after his wont, spun an endless yarn about his latest love, the girl up at the Cherlngee. It was my watch on deck—the second watch—and about half-past 12 a.m., a dirty night, with the full moon showing only fitful gleams of light through the dense banks of clouds which almost covered the sky. ,_ What could the ghost be? I wondered, lending only half an ear to Mr Sampson s yarn. I wanted to tell him about it when I got a chance, and ask his advice. O' course, I in no way dreamt of connecting the supposed ghost with our lost shipmate. Still if it wasn't a ghost what was it ? and something was certainly frightening the men.. Should I— " Austey, you're not listening." " Yes I am, sir. She gave you one of those big white lilies " "Yes, one of those big white lilies, and " Bang! bang I bang 1 and asail put for'ard was flopping itself to ribbons. . . H What the devil is £hat?" cried the first mate, forgetting for the moment all about his sweetheart and the lilies she had given him. I ran for'ard to see, just as the man on the look-out yelled " Jib-sheet whip carried, sir." " All right, lay along here. Haul the inner jib down." My order was promptly obeyed, and the sail was hauled down. : "Out on the boom, there, four of, you, and mucsle that sail." Then I went, aft and reported to the first mate. ~: "The whip has parted, sir." . " All right, get it spliced." "Ifs not worth it, sir. It's all splice now; devil a bit of sound rope in it." " Humph 1 Oh I well, you'd better go down the forepeak and cut off another length. There's a coil of new Manila on the starboard side, right for'ard." Now, the; forepeak had been in my thoughts ever since I came on deck that evening as the domicile of the supposed ghost, but now for the time being it went clean'out ol my head, ,, and I-hurried for'ard, calling to two of the watch to follow mc. One of them was an Irishman named Mickey Doolan, and the. other « very black little nigger commonly called, why I know not, "Gooseberry." 'The fbrepeak, a3.perhaps.eome folks do not know, is right away for'ard under the fo'c's'le head. The first deck is about eight feet down, and new rope, sails. &c, kept there. The next deck ,is ten feet lower, and/ here ie stowed the coal for the donkey engine, and the whole place,' both upper and I6wejt deck, is about as dirty, dark, and uninviting as any place well can be. There. Iβ; a very small'hatch, and the iron laddex leading down is perpendicular and very narrow. . ■■ • "■'■■'•• '■■• . '■'■ The two men followed mc relnctantly, so reluctantly that the ghost flashed into

my mind once more. That trogjileom* j ghost 1 I certainly.wasn't going, jfco let i 6 j stand in the way of duty. ' 3 - " Jump down below.now, Gooseberry f ■ and pass out that coil of manilla." "Ay, ay, sar," and Gooseberry proceeded in the opposite direction. " Where the are you Off to' t" I shouted angrily. ; "Get a lamp, ear," responded Gooseberry, with a nigger's usual civility. " Oh, hang a lamp ; feel for it. Look lively now." - Reluctantly Gooseberry came back, and -very gingerly began to descend, Micky Doolan and I meanwhile leaning over the hatch and watching. Our proximity ought to have given him courage; bat, apparently it did not. '• Gooseberry, ,, I shouted. " Gooseberry, where's that rope I" .... ; There was no answer for a moment or

two; then Gooseberry reported. "Ikyan'fcfindit, sir." , r : " Of course you can'c. Why .don't you keep your mouth shut, and then jrou might have a chance to see over your lips. . Go into the lower place* Perhaps it'g rolled oa to the coals. Look lively now or we'U have the skipper up wondering why that sail isn't set»" ; ...,.'•■>.. Very cautiously Gooseberry proceeded lower down, and stood on the coal, "but he made no attempt to look for the rope. My temper was giving out rapidly—the sail was still hanging away forward, and momentarily I expected the noise to fetc Q out the "old man." " Go farther for'ard," I ordered* "What on earth's the matter with you f Pα you see any ghosts cruising roun d there?" Apparently I struck the right hall on the head, for Gooseberry gave one despairing

glance up, as I could see by the fitful moonlight, which juat caught hie gleaming teeth and eyeballs. Then he proceeded to obey. - 5 ' "Go down with that thing, Doolan, and see if you can't find that rope. ,, _ Doolan began to descend cautiously, ana had juet got down »bout six range, when the most awful yelle rent the air, an* Gooseberry came flying to tfie foot of the ladder at the rate of ten knots an hour, until he came into collison with Micky Doolan, who, being scared at the yells, neither moved up nor down. Little Gooseberry, hardly noticing the obstruction, proceeded to climb up his legs, and then over hie back, and on to the deck. Once there he was just sailing aft, when I grabbed him by the throat, and jammed him up against too windlass.

"Now, sir, what the do you mean t>y lifting up that tuneful voice, and making that row?" ... Gooseberry collapsed promptly on to hie knees. " Fore Gawd, Mr Anetey, thar*e a ghoetle down thar." The fellow trembled all <rrer. His teeth were chattering and his eyes rolling, and altogether his terror was bo real, that I felt certain he at least believed in the visitor from the other world. By this time the mate had come for'ard, and the rest of the watch were crowding round. " What's the matter, Mr Anstey ? Why the deuce don't you fetch along that rone 1* •• Beggared If I know sir. This thing says "—I still had him by the collar, and I gave him a little shake by way of emphasising my displeasure. He was limp woe-begone now—" there's a ghost down in the fore-peak." " Oh, that be ——— for a yarn. Anyhow we'U aoon see, and if there is, out he goes. He's not down on the manifest, and unless he can prove he's either seed or Jute, dumped he'll be, as sure as my names Sampson. Come along and see." " Ay, ay, air. Get a lieht there one of I had made poor Gooseberry descend in Cimmerian darkness, but I wae by Bo means anxious to do it myself. A light was quickly brought, and we proceeded to descend, I carrying the light. I was slightly nervous, I must confess. It was a dismal hole enough. The mournful creaking of the ship's timbers, the howl, ing of the gale, the wash, wash of the waters racing past, the banging , or. the sail overhead, were not 1 "°« nd f calculated to inspire confidence. To be sure, there was the burly first mate, standing 6ft. 2in. in his stockings, close behind mc, and It wouid be a daring ghost, I reflected, that would venture to tackle him. Still I came first, and—well, if anything j was wrong I should certainly have to bear the brunt of It; no retreat was possible, i for the mate filled up all the gangway. I thought of poor Bill Thompson, reflected that he and I had always been good friends, and that If It were his ghos* which had taken to such very uncomfor" table quarters, it wasn't likely it would do mc any harm. i "Go on Anstey," said the mate, Riving mc a friendly little push from behind. '• You alnt afraid of ghosties are you «" Thus adjured I stepped down on to the coals, and held up my lantern. At first I could see nothing, though I felt with eoine satisfaction a coll of rope just at my feet. The mate followed mc, and for a moment we stood .silent till oar eyee got accustomed to the light. Then, to my horror-I frankly confess it the blood fairly curdled in my veins—l saw right In front of ttt a tall figure, clad all In white solemnly raising its spectral hand—l assure you I could have sworn It was a speotral hand—to its forehead; and like Gooseberry I jumped to the conclusion that it was some supernatural visitant from another world. Bow it was I didn't drop the lantern and flee I'm sure I don't know, but I do know my tongue clove to the roof of toy mouth, and Icouldn't have uttered a word to save my life. Not so the mate. Hβ was afraid of no ghostly visitor, and much to my relief he stepped forward and caught the white-robed thing by the collar. '"■

"Who the devil are your he asked In prosaicallyangry tones. Then the ghost opened its month and spake—spake in good English too. No one but myself will ever know how small 1 felt, for to no one did I ever think it necessary to confess my fears. "Please, sir," said the ghost very humbly, " I stowed away." •« OH, ton did, did you ? Well, I swore anything that wasn't seed or jute should be dumped, and dumped you'll be for ft certainty. Come out of that, lively now. You've turned that-ilg. the colour of pea 80up«"% ■Tha watch crowded round as we two c-Cfhe-on deck with the ghostrrA woe-be-gone soldier, in white regulation clothes, n<jW $omewhat smirched by a too clo«* ac. quaihiance with the coals. The mate held 4n him like grim death, as if he momentarily expected him to bolt, and even GooseJberry forgot his fears and peered curiously into his face. Then, by dint of qpestlp-i----*ng, the mate got the whole story but of him. There wasn't much to telL He didn't lik§» Indian He wasaickof soldiering, so he had deserted from Fort William and, having a frieh-l In bar cook, had stowed away in the Ocean King, and the "doctor had been feeding him for the last three "day's."" "Not that Ke" fiad"required much feeding; for he had been so horribly sea-sick it was ho wonder that the report had gone abroad that the ghost had jnoaned and : walled. Anyhow; I think after three days in v thelorepeak he'd have given his eyes to find himself back in barracks. , He told us his name was, Willlaca Hughes.' I don't''suppose for one' moment it was, but it answered as well as. any other, and by that-he was entered On the books as ordinary seaman, and found a sailor's life; I'll hot, about twenty time 3 Jiarder than a n sodger'a." r '" And that was the -most prosaic end'of o ur ghost, r though amongst the crew Hughes was always known as Bill Thompson's Ghost, which, '/being rather long for general use, was, as a rule, shortened into the endearing term of " Ghostie." Poor Bill Thompson I By the time w e reached London I dont suppose there was one of ns aboard' reinem bared him. Even I, who had taken most interest in him, 'forgot him entirely, till one day when I had gone down to Greenhtthe to visit the old " Worcester.** ■Ot course, I had carefully forgotten it was holiday time, so none of tbe fellows ware aboard and most of the masters and officers were away to. Then as I landed again disappointed on the old causeway I had landed on so often as. boy, it suddenly occurred to mc how the poor bosun had told mc that he had lefl Ms wife in lodgings in Greanhithe. I hat the address, and having nothing in partfc ular to do, I thought I'd go and look her u_ i and tell her about her husband.

- The house was coon fcrand; a very very humble house Iα a very humble street, but it looked neat and dean. I knocked at the door, and a middle-aged woman "With: a wrinkled and worn face opened the door to mc. .. . . . - : - ' . .-•':■'..>. "Does Mrs Thompson lire here?", I asked, \'\ : ' .' •■' .; V- ; -..V ' ■ " Sir I" ehe said, interrogatively, as if she hadn't heard. "Mm Thompson? her husband went away last December—bo'aun of the Ocean Kingr bound for Calcutta. ■--> "Dear—eir—you ain't her husband/" " No, rm not. : He's drowned—fell overboard. Fm one Of the mates of the Ocean King; I thought I'd just come and see how ehewasgettingalong." " Dear, dear, drowned ia he—an* she died in childbed three months afterhe was gone. Pined flhe did, an' never held op her head again." "And the child!" " Oh, it was A pony thing-* boy, W It died ft d»y after its mother. Wβ buried 'em

togetnes. -There was a letter comeforhei after she wai dead—l put it under the U caddy andkep' it safe. Will you have itr I nodded, and she produced It—my own letter -written about the time the toot taing lay dying. Ah, well, I was gUui«S had never got it. *"«80e " It's a hard life, the sea," went ou tt,* woman, standing In the doorway, "ah*M life—hard on them as follows it an' them as stops behind. My husband an* three eons they all followed the sea, an , the wear on it is like to kill mc sometimes." Indeed I could well believe her; worn and weary, she looked like a woman »ha had kept many a long vigil. "My man," she went on," was cast &w» and loeton the coast of Newfoundland, »»• two of my boys they sailed for China an , the ship was never heard of no more, &n* here's the last, God bless him, he'ajmt come beck from Australy." - -,; A lad was rolling:up thestreet, Wβ hande in his pockets, his cap on the back of feu he**/ Chiery and jolly he fli, father's and brother's fate had evidently in no way daunted hin. I bid hia methei good-bye, and strolled on, but t paused s moment and listened to therboya " Saje she,' My leve, I'm dead and gone I Lowlands, lowlands. And on my head they've put a stone:" Good-bye mj love, ia the lowland** — Argut, * k