THE SHIP IN THE MOONLIGHT.

Otago Witness, Issue 3831, 16 August 1927, Page 81

THE SHIP IN THE MOONLIGHT.

By

Carlson E. Holmes

(Copyright.—Fob the Otago Witness.)

The captain of every sea-going ship has at his command a priceless store of mysteries of the sea. Some are true, some, alas I would be believed only by lady passengers on their first trip. However, all these narratives of the sea have the saving grace of being interesting. One cold, wet afternoon, with the New Zealand coast only a faint blur to starboard, I sat in the captain’s cabin. His vile pipe, drawing as easily as only vile pipes can, hung at a rakish angle from his face, and emitted evil-smelling clouds of blue smoke.

Taking from his desk an old, battered book the captain said : “ This will interest you, but before you start reading it I want to tell you that I solved its mysterv all by myself. Let me give you the facts.

“ During the war I was in charge of a mine-sweeper. You remember the craft -—slow, wet, and cold. One day, during a storm, we became separated from the rest of the sweepers. All night we were blown about, but we managed to keep steerage-way. Next morning we determined to get back to our base as quickly as possible; and, as if to recompense us for the dirty night, the sun shone down and the wind dropped. But luck was against us.

“About 3.30 someone yelled: “ ‘There’s a sub.’ And only about 203 yards away was a periscope. “ I could almost see its glassy eye staring at us. The submarine commander saw we were harmless, so he came to the surface. I saw’ the sub. was numbered U 37. I hope that one day I’ll meet its commander. I think I have an account to settle with him.

“ The Germans came closer and opened fire on us —almost point-blank. They didn't give us a chance. A fragment of shell caught my mate, and he went down with a choking sob, and then they plugged our old packet and left us sinking. Before the-- left us the commander waved “ Goodbye.” After, that he submerged. “ There was little commotion a_ we took to our boats. The men were splendid. For some reason I threw’ in a small box belonging to my mate. Among other things it contained this hook. I begged it of his people. After all, we had sailed together for years, and, for old times’ sake, I wanted something he had owned.”

Opening the worn leather cover of the book we read on its first page. .“This is the journal of Robert Falconer, late lieutenant in her Majesty’s Navy, and discharged for giving three deserters their liberty.

“ I know’ my punishment to be deserved. But I could not see three men taken home to die. Circumstances have brought me here upon the pirate ship Jasper, and I await, patiently, the death which must, come to all engaged in this heinous business.” (Then followed a carefully-written diary of events aboard the Jasper. These were general until the middle of July, when trouble began to appear.) “ July 24.—T0-day we were off the mouth of the Hong Li River, and engaged with two unfortunate junks. These were stripped of all their valuables, and Abel Long, our gunner, holed them below water line- leaving their crews to perish. July 27.—Nat Greenway, a boy, was unmercifully flogged to-day for’ some trifling offence. It seems that Wilson, our captain and the greatest rogue unhanged, called him. The boy, however, tlirough an illness, did not answer too quickly. I have done my best for him, but he lies as one already dead. “ July 28.—Greenway died, his body being cast overboard as soon as the breath left him. As I saw him thrown to the sea, I muttered what prayers I could remember. But prayers on this vile ship ! “ August B.—This morning we anchored in one of our hiding-places, and captain and crew are ashore. I alone, of all our terrible company of murderers and thieves, remain on board this ship, which they call the Jasper,—the captain’s Christian name. She is as fine a ship as ever left England, and I find, burnt on an old bucket, the name Eastern Pride.

“ I am determined to leave this ship ! I will tage arms and food. Further, I must take my journal and spare clothing. There is a small boat alongside, and after dark I will attempt an escape. August 9.—This morning, early, I watched them as they moved out to sea. But no more ships will fall as prey to the Jasper, and the Eastern Pride will go to the haven of honest ships. “ I have laid a slow fuse to the powder magazine, and, if it is not discovered, the powder will explode about 11 to-night. Her Majesty’s Navy despises my services; but in ridding the sea of such a scourge I consider I have lived up to its traditions. With a lighter heart than I have possessed for many a day, I commend myself to heaven, and will now keep to the coast in the hope that I may be'rescued by a passing ship.” * * *

I placed the old journal on the captain’s desk. “ But how have you solved its mystery?” I inquired. As he handed me a yellowed news, he replied:

“ This came from the London Times, December 20, 1875. Read it.” And this is what I read: A STRANGE STORY FROM CHINESE SEAS. In bright moonlight on the night of August 9 those on watch aboard the British ship-o’-war H.M.S. sighted a fully-rigged ship bearing down on them. As they altered their course the stranger, which showed no lights, tore past. “ Run by a crew of madmen, I think,” said the officer of the watch. “ Maybe, sir,” whispered the sailor near him, an honest soul, but superstitious to the last degree. The British ship made signals, but received no reply. She rode the water like a phantom craft manned by ghosts. Then of a sudden there was a deafening report, a blinding flash, and the stranger began to settle down. Pieces of wood and iron rained down on the deck of the British craft, fortunately striking no one. The watchers saw the craft in the moonlight sink, bow first. Just as her stern slipped into the black depths there came a long wail—clear and uncanny. For an hour after daylight the British boat searched for possible survivors or soni'ithing by which they could find the name of the lost ship. They found nothing except a piece of wood, probably from a small boat, bearing the letter “ J.” Other letters followed, but these had been ripped away by I the explosion. Despite efforts the ship has never been identified. “And who was Robert Falconer?” I asked. “The captain answered, “He was my mate’s grandfather.”