THE OLD WRECK.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue VI, 5 August 1899, Page 183

THE OLD WRECK.

BY

HUME NISBET.

I did not get my holidays until nearly the close of September that year, as I had some work to finish which kept me pretty close during the dog-days, but as soon as it was finished I packed my sketching paraphernalia, and rushed off to my old haunts on the Kentish coast, resolved to have a good time of it. The weather was simply delicious, and the place almost my own, for the summer visitors had left, and only a few invalids and respectable families remained. St. Abbs was not a fashionable place at any time, although it had its share of customers during the busy season. It was situated too far distant from any railway station to be generally known, and as the whole land was owned by an ancient and strictly Conservative family, the building fiend could not get hold of it. The place was old-fashioned and restful in its character, with little of change or excitement unless when the stormy season set in and a wrecked vessel’came ashore.

Yet it had a charm of its own that fashionable resorts, with their glaring new brick and mortar monstrosities, could never hope to reach. The wandering minstrel seldom passed that way, the brass bands of the Salvation Army had not yet discovered it, so that the natives were left to prepare themselves for the better world in the old orthodox and peaceful way. The murmur of the waves against the sands in summer, or the breaking of the ocean against the ehalk cliffs in winter, were the only sounds that entered the ears of those who cared to listen. A little cluster of red-tiled and thatched cottages, each with its garden attached, comprised the village, which crouched under the shelter of a hill and by the side of a small creek where lay the fleet of fishing boats with their picturesque rigging, patched red sails, and purple nets. The banks of the creek were picturesque also, if not over savoury with the remains of fish and other odds and ends which are scattered so freely about a fishing village, while the natives went about their daily business with the perfect indifference to costume which fishermen and their women-folk always display when they are not much troubled by strangers.

They were a simple and slow-mov-ing set, contented with their small earnings and ocean harvest, not at all averse to an occasional wreck, and as yet had not been educated in the art of living upon visitors. One might walk about or lie on the sands all day without being asked once to hire a boat, and when the stranger did come they gave him or her pot-luck and left the reckoning to their own discretion.

The spirits at the little publiehouse was unadulterated, and if some of it did not pay duty it was none the weaker for that, the brandy being undeniably cognac, and much cheaper than the whiskey, for the good hostess paying less for it, set smaller value on it; the ale also was country brewed and wholesome, and the barparlour comfortable, if homely. In that cosy parlour I had passed many a pleasant night listening to stories and legends, and feeling as if London were only a livid nightmare and the result of a bad fit of indigestion. Beyond the village the creek had been dredged and deepened and took a turn round the cliffs before it reached the sea, so that although the storm might be raging outside, the boats and cottages were safely sheltered from its fury. In olden days a good deal of safe smuggling had been conducted here, for the cliffs formed a pretty bay and the landing was a safe one. The cliffs were lofty, and worn in many places with caverns through which one could penetrate and reach the hill-top. Some of these passages were, however, choked up, and only used as hiding-places for the children. At low tide, the sands spread firm and hard half a mile sea-ward, along which one could walk for miles in either direction watching the ocean stretching blue and level, or the ships coursing their way with their sails shining whitely in the sunlight. I had spent many a day on these sands and sketched almost every point of interest for miles, yet always discerned

something fresh whenever I came to look about me, with the ever-changing lights and alterations of colour and effect.

One of my favourite studies was an old wreck which had drifted ashore and stuck fast in a safe part of the sands some years before. The crew had been saved during the storm, and the hull very little damaged, yet being an old craft and almost past service when she stuck, the owner of the land had purchased her for a trifle and left her to rest and decay at her leisure, as she made a picturesque break in the otherwise level monotony. The “Mary Ann” was the modest title she had worn on her stern during her last voyage, and her cargo had been coal, which the honest fishermen had long ago cleared, even to the last vestige of black dust which their wives had swept carefully out of the hold and carried away to back their fires with.

She lay with bows facing the shore, hoary with age, yet solid enough still to resist the many tempests which swept over her, with heavy bulwarks like pier-heads, and massive planks so thickly coated with pitch that they defied the influence of sun, wind and waves. She must have been a sluggish sailor with all that armour of pitch upon her and those ungainly patches of her old age, —an uncomfortable home in a rough sea with her unwieldy movements, but she would have wonderful staying powers, if sullen to answer the wheel.

Her- age was well-nigh impossible to guess at, for she had been repaired so often that probably few of her original planks remained, and her shape must have been altered with these frequent patchings since the far-off days when she first left the builder’s yard, possibly then a spank joung thing in the way of fast-going ships.

1 had sketched her often, and speculated in an idle fashion on what she might have been in her palmy days. Iler bows, now half embedded in the sand, were lofty, bulging, and rounded like the ships of the seventeenth century; indeed, she had a certain galleon-like appearance about her strangely suggestive of the days of those gentle buccaneers who scoured the Spanish main, and brought borne ducats and doubloons galore—those winsome and roving blades whom King James the Second of England so often anointed with pitch and hung- in chains by the side of the broad Thames as a reward for their merry and virtuous actions. She was decked now heavily with pitch as they had been at the end of their days, but doubtless she had been gaudy enough once with colours and gold as they, her masters, had been with their velvets, silks, chains, and laces, and as frequently dyed with gore. The place for the figure-head still remained, a broad space with massive stanchions leading from it, but the image or images had long since vanished, so that her former majesty could only’ be guessed at through her present uncouth bulkiness. She lay about a mile and a half from the cliffs in one of the most sheltered parts of the bay, and at low tide one could get to within a quarter of a mile of her without being wet, but to reach her meant a wade up to the waist; at high tide the water reached to the portholes in the middle portion, and almost level with the poop at the stern. She stood grandly out of the water at low tide, and made a picture at once impressive and pathetic with her massive shape, countless weather stains, and blood-like rust runnings. I had watched and drawn her already in all positions and in every phase o£ effect—sunrise, mid-day, sunset, moonlight, when the waves rose whitely and savagely over her, and when the mist half shrouded her and made her ghost-like and shadowy. 1 had also climbed her sides, ami explored her empty dismantled cabin, forecastle, and hold, so that 1 knew almost every plank and rib, and could have re-built her figure-head and restored her lost masts, yards, and rigging; indeed, so much had she taken possession of my mind and imagination that 1 had dreamt of her often in my London chambers, where 1 saw her with her heavy guns and swash buckling crew in ail her glory. She was the friend I had always paid my first visit to

when I came to St. Abbs with a fear lest, she might have broken up. and a thrill of pleasure when 1 saw her still rugged, staunch, and deflant of time. On this occasion I reached the little village late in the afternoon of a September day, and as soon as I had secured my bedroom, had some tea with the fry of delicious fresh fldh which my host always welcomed me with, 1 lit my pipe and went off to see my old “Mary Ann.” The moon had already risen as 1 reached the mouth of the creek, and I saw with satisfaction that the tide was well out. A soft mist crept over the sea, through which the mellow September moon shone softly yet lustrously. and through this tender mist the old wreck could be seen looming in grander proportions than ever.

As 1 walked on rapidly and examined her, an irresistible desire came upon me to wade out and board her. I had forgotten to ask about the tides,. but I could see as I advanced that it would soon be on the turn. There would be time enough for me to reach the wreck, yet if I did so I should have to make up my mind to stay on board till early morning. Would I go? I recalled the stories the honest but superstitious fishermen so often told in the bar-parlour of her being a haunted ship, how that strange lights and ghostly forms had been seen by them, both from the shore ami from the sea as they passed her at a respectful distance, and the recollection of these absurdities determined me to spend the night on board, so that I might have a laugh at them when I got back. The weather was calm and settled; therefore 1 had no fear about being caught in a storm. The air also was balmy and soft for it was too early yet in the season for frost, so that the worst I need fear was a fast ami a giant’s appetite for breakfast; therefore without any more hesitation I slipped off my boots, stockings and trousers, and, slinging them round my neck, began my wade cheerfully. The daylight still lingered in the west, and over against me, with the wreck between, lay the round golden moon, with the gauzy mist making the vessel's pitchy hulk a soft violet, a tender picture of peace and delicate colour.

The same old rusty chain, up which I had so often climbed, still hung over the side and into the water. In another minute I was standing on the deserted deck and drying my limbs preparatory to re-dressing. After I was once more presentable, I got out my tobacco-pouch and again filling my pipe, lit it, laughing to myself as I watched the glare of my waxmatch, and thinking that if any one on shore saw that glare and my spectral figure, there would be another ghost-story ready for me when I got back from my adventure. I stopped short in laughing as that ghostly idea crossed my mind, and tried to push it out, for although I might have indulged it during the day and on shore, it seemed a mighty unpleasant thought here in the gathering darkness and on this silent and lonely wreck; not that 1 was at all afraid, only that somehow it seemed out of place. One might as well laugh in a lonely graveyard, or amongpt the ruins of an ancient castle, as on board an unknown wreck when the shadows of night are creeping down on one and the moonlight makes fantastic shadows, weird lights, and curious mysteries of the most commonplace objects.

There were, however, not many objects left on this wreck to make mystery out of, for it had been pretty well dismantled, with the exception of this rusty chain which trailed its linky length to the dilapidated capstan.

1 noticed that the bulwarks showed increased signs of decay since my former visit; here and there gaps appeared where patches had fallen away or had been torn off, and through these the moonbeams began to play, making white and black patterns on the. deck.

I walked briskly over the boards, waking dull echoes as 1 went, first to the forecastle within which I only glanced, for it was already too dusky to see much; then I had a look down the dark hold from the uncovered hatchways, after which 1 passed into the cabin, and here, striking another match, gazed round curiously. In the coaling decline of the ship, the cabin had been partitioned and curtailed in size so as to accommodate

the skipper and his two mates, but now these partitions had been taken away, one could get a better idea of its original size, and see where the lierths had been —a roomy eabiu, square in shape, or rather wider than it was long, with vast recesses where the stern windows had been.

Yawning and empty as a disused barn it looked, with the broken planks through which the moonlight glinted as the only relief to the otherwise monotony and dreariness —yes, its force of resistance was about spent now. I could see as I looked round, another winter or two, and only the ribs would be left to go piece by piece. Uy the time I reached the deck, the tide' had put it past my power to go. even if I wanted to, but 1 did not, for my confidence had returned, and 1 was prepared to enjoy my prison; therefore I went up to the forecastle deck, and taking my seat on the bows, puffed away leisurely while I watched the tide racing in shore with the gleaming surf leaping farther and farther each second. Very soon the sands were covered ami the cliffs all but hidden by the night mist, while the moon increased in lustre and flooded the ocean with its white radiance. It was a magical scene, particularly to a fond lover as 1 then was. and I straightway myself up to thoughts of the girl whom some day, when 1 hail earned enough. I hoped to make my wife. She was sitting for that time, as 1 was. and as we had done for the past three years, but the happy time seemed' still to be far distant, for money came slowly and had to be worked verv hard for. As I thought over her tenderly and counted up the small sum I had managed to save, I sighed bitterly and murmured hopelessly: “Oh for some of those ducats and doubloons which this good ship must have carried.” X slight touch at my elbow roused me with a start, as I murmured this vain desire, and glancing round quicklv I saw to my astonishment a woman at my side, young, beautiful, anil singularly resembling the girl I was thinking about. She was costumed in a fashion of the past, rich and stately, and looked in the moonlight a shimmer of satin, -eld and'lace: on her head she wore, by wav of covering, a bandanna turban. from which her dark hair fell in thick and rippling masses to her vaist.

When I saw her. I sprang to my feet with a cry of surprise, dropping mv pipe as 1 did so. This exclamation. however, she checked by putting her finger to her lips as a sign to me to be silent: then, holding out a long dark-coloured mantle anil cambriclike lieaver hat she signalled for me to put them on and follow her. It was so strange and unexpected, that I felt I must be dreaming, yet so real that I could hardly think so either. I saw the moon on the water, and the distant cliffs misty and grey. The hulk also on which we stood was a reality in its bareness and decay. No, that was changed since my last looking at it. It was no longer a stranded wreck, but a full-rigged ship riding at anchor, with the heavyyards and sails breaking up the sky. and the bowsprit reaching out beyond me and above the gilded lion which was the figure head.

The decks were no longer bare and deserted, but covered with articles of

use and warfare; round-shot lay piled up by the sides of the bronze guns; easks were lashed to the bulwarks; the hatchways covered the hold; wh’le in the forecastle and cabin 1 could heat loud voices.

Obedient to that signal. 1 disguised myself with the beaver and cloak, and followed the woman as she glided aiong the deck until we reached the ■■waist.” where a rope ladder led down to the boat. Still following her. I got into the boat which was laden with packages and boxes, anil taking my place at the stern I crouched down, as she indicated I shott'd do. and waited for the next development of the strange drama. “Keep silent, watch and remember." she whispered to me after she had seen me safely placed; then she retreated t.p the rope ladder, and I was left alone.

Presently, as 1 lay rocking at the Ixyttom of the boat. and amongst 'he packages, seven bearded ami boldlooking buccaneers. :dl tidily costumed in velvets, linj linen an I high boots came over the side and took ’he:.’ places, six of them .it the .»:irs, and the seventh, who seemed the nailer sitting d« w 1 close to me a' the tiller, then they cast off silently and began rowing for ih * shore. Tin leader steer-*! straight f»r on-

• 1 the enormous ea.es that I h:id • I-••i-ady explored, an I as the tide was >,..w full in they got right up to its ei. rance, yvhere. makin r the i»o.it fas*, they leapt ashore and began to unload.

Fortunately for me, they took the nearest packages first, their leader, who had now lit a lantern, showing them the way. and the men. each two carrying a box between them. As soon as I had seen them safe into the eave I followed at a discreet distance, the glare from the lantern in front guiding me as well as them. It was a long cavern with several angles and twists, and they went pretty far into it. At last they reachthe end where they set down their loads and returned for others.

It was easy to dodge them as they passed me. for they seemed to be quite unsuspicious of anyone watching them, and there were crevices enough for me to hide myself until they passed.

Three times they went past my hiding place and returned carrying these small, but strongly bound and heavy cases, making twelve boxes in all. with other packets which they bore under their arms, and on the final trip from the l>oat they brought with them pickaxes and spades. They then set to work, picking out

a grave-like hole in the soft chalk floor, while 1 looked on their labours with vast interest. Theyy worked diligently. theid lead- < r holding the lantern for them until they had reached a depth of about eight or ten feet, when they left off excavating, and packing the boxes and parcels closely in they began filling up the hole and trampling the chalk upon it until it appeared to be as solid as the oth *r portions of the floor. This done they scattered the rest of the chalk which they could not trample down, and, shouldering their implements, marched to the cave entrance, boarded their boat and rowed away- under the moonlight towards the full-rigged ship that had been a wreck so long. “Ah, what a dream, to be sure!" I

said aloud as 1 woke up to find myself still on the forecastle of the MaryAnn with the early morning air chilling me. A splendid dream if it could only be realised. “If?” 1 rose to my feet with eagerness and looked towards the shore. The sands were once more firm and dry and the cavern 1 had dreamt about faced me.

Suppose the part of the dream about the buried treasure was real! Stranger things hail chanced than this* At the least before indulging in any wild ho|>es 1 would try. now that 1 knew the spot, a day or so of digging which would do me a world of good. Quickly I left the wreck and went back to the village, getting into my room before anyone was up. and so escaping any questioning. Then, after breakfast with a pick and spade, which I managed to liorrow from the garden without being observed. 1 made my way to the cave, and lighting a candle that 1 had taken from my room I examined the ground carefully There was a slight depression at one portion of the rugged floor, and that. I decided, was the place to excavate. So casting off my coat and vest 1 began my labour. No one came to interrupt me that day. so I workeil hard all the forenoon, and after dinner, buying a couple more candles. I workeil on till nearly night. At last I was rewarded, and the first of the lx>xes lay liefore me. My dream had not lieen an idle vision after all!

I covered the box with some loose chalk and went home that night in a fever. Next day at dawn I was at the eave again and had four of the boxes. now so far decayed that they fell asunder with a stroke of the pick and revealed the treasure in gold and silver pieces of ancient date lying' thickly before me.

After that I had a busy time of it going to and from London with my jwrtmanteau crammed as I went up

and empty as 1 came back. The honest fishermen did not suspect anything, for they had grown accustomed to seeing me go about, and 1 felt that this legacy ought to be my own since it had been revealed to me so strangely and 1 hail found it. Yet 1 did not try to soothe my conscience with reasons about the right or wrong of the possession. AH my wits were centred on getting it quietly smuggled away.

A fortnight did this, and then when the hole had been cleared out I covered it carefully as the silent pirates hail done, and then, saying farewell to St. Abbs, with a fervent blessing on the lucky Mary Ann. I began my negotiations with the money changers to find myself ten thousand pounds the richer for my little seaside trip. The packages must have been silks and soft goods, for they had become dust, but the gold and silver were all right. In six weeks after this 1 took my bride down to St. Abbs to spend the honeymoon and show her old wreck.

"It is strange. Jack, that you should have had the dream about that woman so like me.” she said, as we stood on the shore looking at the hulk, “for I heard my grandmother tell that her great grandmother was the daughter of a buccaneer who was hanged for piracy on the high seas.” While we were at the village a savage gale swept on the coast, which lasted furiously for three days, and proved too strong for the endurance of the Mary Ann, for when the weather cleared a few ribs were all that remained of the old wreck.