V
_The End of Williams_
As I have said, there was a lot of talk, among the crowd of us forrard,about Tom's strange accident. None of the men knew that Williams and Ihad seen it _happen_. Stubbins gave it as his opinion that Tom had beensleepy, and missed the foot-rope. Tom, of course, would not have this byany means. Yet, he had no one to appeal to; for, at that time, he wasjust as ignorant as the rest, that we had seen the sail flap up over theyard.
Stubbins insisted that it stood to reason it couldn't be the wind. Therewasn't any, he said; and the rest of the men agreed with him.
"Well," I said, "I don't know about all that. I'm a bit inclined tothink Tom's yarn is the truth."
"How do you make that hout?" Stubbins asked, unbelievingly. "There haintnothin' like enough wind."
"What about the place on his forehead?" I inquired, in turn. "How areyou going to explain that?"
"I 'spect he knocked himself there when he slipped," he answered.
"Likely 'nuffli," agreed old Jaskett, who was sitting smoking on a chestnear by.
"Well, you're both a damn long way out of it!" Tom chipped in, prettywarm. "I wasn't asleep; an' the sail did bloomin' well hit me."
"Don't you be impertinent, young feller," said Jaskett.
I joined in again.
"There's another thing, Stubbins," I said. "The gasket Tom was hangingby, was on the after side of the yard. That looks as if the sail mighthave flapped it over? If there were wind enough to do the one, it seemsto me that it might have done the other."
"Do you mean that it was hunder ther yard, or hover ther top?" he asked.
"Over the top, of course. What's more, the foot of the sail was hangingover the after part of the yard, in a bight."
Stubbins was plainly surprised at that, and before he was ready with hisnext objection, Plummer spoke.
"'oo saw it?" he asked.
"I saw it!" I said, a bit sharply. "So did Williams; so--for thatmatter--did the Second Mate."
Plummer relapsed into silence; and smoked; and Stubbins broke outafresh.
"I reckon Tom must have had a hold of the foot and the gasket, andpulled 'em hover the yard when he tumbled."
"No!" interrupted Tom. "The gasket was under the sail. I couldn't evensee it. An' I hadn't time to get hold of the foot of the sail, before itup and caught me smack in the face."
"'ow did yer get 'old er ther gasket, when yer fell, then?" askedPlummer.
"He didn't get hold of it," I answered for Tom. "It had taken a turnround his wrist, and that's how we found him hanging."
"Do you mean to say as 'e 'adn't got 'old of ther garsket?," Quoininquired, pausing in the lighting of his pipe.
"Of course, I do," I said. "A chap doesn't go hanging on to a rope whenhe's jolly well been knocked senseless."
"Ye're richt," assented Jock. "Ye're quite richt there, Jessop."
Quoin concluded the lighting of his pipe.
"I dunno," he said.
I went on, without noticing him.
"Anyway, when Williams and I found him, he was hanging by the gasket,and it had a couple of turns round his wrist. And besides that, as Isaid before, the foot of the sail was hanging over the after side of theyard, and Tom's weight on the gasket was holding it there."
"It's damned queer," said Stubbins, in a puzzled voice. "There don'tseem to be no way of gettin' a proper hexplanation to it."
I glanced at Williams, to suggest that I should tell all that we hadseen; but he shook his head, and, after a moment's thought, it seemed tome that there was nothing to be gained by so doing. We had no very clearidea of the thing that had happened, and our half facts and guesseswould only have tended to make the matter appear more grotesque andunlikely. The only thing to be done was to wait and watch. If we couldonly get hold of something tangible, then we might hope to tell all thatwe knew, without being made into laughing-stocks.
I came out from my think, abruptly.
Stubbins was speaking again. He was arguing the matter with one of theother men.
"You see, with there bein' no wind, scarcely, ther thing's himpossible,an' yet--"
The other man interrupted with some remark I did not catch.
"No," I heard Stubbins say. "I'm hout of my reckonin'. I don't savvy itone bit. It's too much like a damned fairy tale."
"Look at his wrist!" I said.
Tom held out his right hand and arm for inspection. It was considerablyswollen where the rope had been round it.
"Yes," admitted Stubbins. "That's right enough; but it don't tell younothin'."
I made no reply. As Stubbins said, it told you "nothin'." And there Ilet it drop. Yet, I have told you this, as showing how the matter wasregarded in the fo'cas'le. Still, it did not occupy our minds very long;for, as I have said, there were further developments.
The three following nights passed quietly; and then, on the fourth, allthose curious signs and hints culminated suddenly in somethingextraordinarily grim. Yet, everything had been so subtle and intangible,and, indeed, so was the affair itself, that only those who had actuallycome in touch with the invading fear, seemed really capable ofcomprehending the terror of the thing. The men, for the most part, beganto say the ship was unlucky, and, of course, as usual! there was sometalk of there being a Jonah in the ship. Still, I cannot say that noneof the men realised there was anything horrible and frightening in itall; for I am sure that some did, a little; and I think Stubbins wascertainly one of them; though I feel certain that he did not, at thattime, you know, grasp a quarter of the real significance that underlaythe several queer matters that had disturbed our nights. He seemed tofail, somehow, to grasp the element of personal danger that, to me, wasalready plain. He lacked sufficient imagination, I suppose, to piece thethings together--to trace the natural sequence of the events, and theirdevelopment. Yet I must not forget, of course, that he had no knowledgeof those two first incidents. If he had, perhaps he might have stoodwhere I did. As it was, he had not seemed to reach out at all, you know,not even in the matter of Tom and the fore royal. Now, however, afterthe thing I am about to tell you, he seemed to see a little way into thedarkness, and realise possibilities.
I remember the fourth night, well. It was a clear, star-lit, moonlesssort of night: at least, I think there was no moon; or, at any rate, themoon could have been little more than a thin crescent, for it was nearthe dark time.
The wind had breezed up a bit; but still remained steady. We wereslipping along at about six or seven knots an hour. It was our middlewatch on deck, and the ship was full of the blow and hum of the windaloft. Williams and I were the only ones about the maindeck. He wasleaning over the weather pin-rail, smoking; while I was pacing up anddown, between him and the fore hatch. Stubbins was on the look-out.
Two bells had gone some minutes, and I was wishing to goodness that itwas eight, and time to turn-in. Suddenly, overhead, there sounded asharp crack, like the report of a rifle shot. It was followed instantlyby the rattle and crash of sailcloth thrashing in the wind.
Williams jumped away from the rail, and ran aft a few steps. I followedhim, and, together, we stared upwards to see what had gone.Indistinctly, I made out that the weather sheet of the fore t'gallanthad carried away, and the clew of the sail was whirling and bangingabout in the air, and, every few moments, hitting the steel yard a blow,like the thump of a great sledge hammer.
"It's the shackle, or one of the links that's gone, I think," I shoutedto Williams, above the noise of the sail. "That's the spectacle that'shitting the yard."
"Yus!" he shouted back, and went to get hold of the clewline. I ran togive him a hand. At the same moment, I caught the Second Mate's voiceaway aft, shouting. Then came the noise of running feet, and the rest ofthe watch, and the Second Mate, were with us almost at the same moment.In a few minutes we had the yard lowered and the sail clewed up. ThenWilliams and I went aloft to see where the sheet had gone. It was muchas I had supposed; the spectacle was all right, but the pin had gone outof the shac
kle, and the shackle itself was jammed into the sheavehole inthe yard arm.
Williams sent me down for another pin, while he unbent the clewline, andoverhauled it down to the sheet. When I returned with the fresh pin, Iscrewed it into the shackle, clipped on the clewline, and sung out tothe men to take a pull on the rope. This they did, and at the secondheave the shackle came away. When it was high enough, I went up on tothe t'gallant yard, and held the chain, while Williams shackled it intothe spectacle. Then he bent on the clewline afresh, and sung out to theSecond Mate that we were ready to hoist away.
"Yer'd better go down an' give 'em a 'aul," he said. "I'll sty an' lightup ther syle."
"Right ho, Williams," I said, getting into the rigging. "Don't let theship's bogy run away with you."
This remark I made in a moment of light-heartedness, such as will cometo anyone aloft, at times. I was exhilarated for the time being, andquite free from the sense of fear that had been with me so much of late.I suppose this was due to the freshness of the wind.
"There's more'n one!" he said, in that curiously short way of his.
"What?" I asked.
He repeated his remark.
I was suddenly serious. The _reality_ of all the impossible details ofthe past weeks came back to me, vivid, and beastly.
"What do you mean, Williams?" I asked him.
But he had shut up, and would say nothing.
"What do you know--how much do you know?" I went on, quickly. "Why didyou never tell me that you--"
The Second Mate's voice interrupted me, abruptly:
"Now then, up there! Are you going to keep us waiting all night? One ofyou come down and give us a pull with the ha'lyards. The other stay upand light up the gear."
"i, i, Sir," I shouted back.
Then I turned to Williams, hurriedly.
"Look here, Williams," I said. "If you think there is _really_ a dangerin your being alone up here--" I hesitated for words to express what Imeant. Then I went on. "Well, I'll jolly well stay up with you."
The Second Mate's voice came again.
"Come on now, one of you! Make a move! What the hell are you doing?"
"Coming, Sir!" I sung out.
"Shall I stay?" I asked definitely.
"Garn!" he said. "Don't yer fret yerself. I'll tike er bloomin' piy-diyout of 'er. Blarst 'em. I ain't funky of 'em."
I went. That was the last word Williams spoke to anyone living.
I reached the decks, and tailed on to the haulyards.
We had nearly mast-headed the yard, and the Second Mate was looking upat the dark outline of the sail, ready to sing out "Belay"; when, all atonce, there came a queer sort of muffled shout from Williams.
"Vast hauling, you men," shouted the Second Mate.
We stood silent, and listened.
"What's that, Williams?" he sung out. "Are you all clear?"
For nearly half a minute we stood, listening; but there came no reply.Some of the men said afterwards that they had noticed a curious rattlingand vibrating noise aloft that sounded faintly above the hum and swirlof the wind. Like the sound of loose ropes being shaken and slattedtogether, you know. Whether this noise was really heard, or whether itwas something that had no existence outside of their imaginations, Icannot say. I heard nothing of it; but then I was at the tail end of therope, and furthest from the fore rigging; while those who heard it wereon the fore part of the haulyards, and close up to the shrouds.
The Second Mate put his hands to his mouth.
"Are you all clear there?" he shouted again.
The answer came, unintelligible and unexpected. It ran like this:
"Blarst yer ... I've styed ... Did yer think ... drive ... bl--ypiy-diy." And then there was a sudden silence.
I stared up at the dim sail, astonished.
"He's dotty!" said Stubbins, who had been told to come off the look-outand give us a pull.
"'e's as mad as a bloomin' 'atter," said Quoin, who was standingforeside of me. "'e's been queer all along."
"Silence there!" shouted the Second Mate. Then:
"Williams!"
No answer.
"Williams!" more loudly.
Still no answer.
Then:
"Damn you, you jumped-up cockney crocodile! Can't you hear? Are youblooming-well deaf?"
There was no answer, and the Second Mate turned to me.
"Jump aloft, smartly now, Jessop, and see what's wrong!"
"i, i, Sir," I said and made a run for the rigging. I felt a bit queer.Had Williams gone mad? He certainly always had been a bit funny. Or--andthe thought came with a jump--had he seen--I did not finish. Suddenly,up aloft, there sounded a frightful scream. I stopped, with my hand onthe sheerpole. The next instant, something fell out of the darkness--aheavy body, that struck the deck near the waiting men, with a tremendouscrash and a loud, ringing, wheezy sound that sickened me. Several of themen shouted out loud in their fright, and let go of the haulyards; butluckily the stopper held it, and the yard did not come down. Then, forthe space of several seconds, there was a dead silence among the crowd;and it seemed to me that the wind had in it a strange moaning note.
The Second Mate was the first to speak. His voice came so abruptly thatit startled me.
"Get a light, one of you, quick now!"
There was a moment's hesitation.
"Fetch one of the binnacle lamps, you, Tammy."
"i, i, Sir," the youngster said, in a quavering voice, and ran aft.
In less than a minute I saw the light coming towards us along the deck.The boy was running. He reached us, and handed the lamp to the SecondMate, who took it and went towards the dark, huddled heap on the deck.He held the light out before him, and peered at the thing.
"My God!" he said. "It's Williams!"
He stooped lower with the light, and I saw details. It was Williamsright enough. The Second Mate told a couple of the men to lift him andstraighten him out on the hatch. Then he went aft to call the Skipper.He returned in a couple of minutes with an old ensign which he spreadover the poor beggar. Almost directly, the Captain came hurrying forwardalong the decks. He pulled back one end of the ensign, and looked; thenhe put it back quietly, and the Second Mate explained all that we knew,in a few words.
"Would you leave him where he is, Sir?" he asked, after he had toldeverything.
"The night's fine," said the Captain. "You may as well leave the poordevil there."
He turned, and went aft, slowly. The man who was holding the light,swept it round so that it showed the place where Williams had struck thedeck.
The Second Mate spoke abruptly.
"Get a broom and a couple of buckets, some of you."
He turned sharply, and ordered Tammy on to the poop.
As soon as he had seen the yard mast-headed, and the ropes cleared up,he followed Tammy. He knew well enough that it would not do for theyoungster to let his mind dwell too much on the poor chap on the hatch,and I found out, a little later, that he gave the boy something tooccupy his thoughts.
After they had gone aft, we went into the fo'cas'le. Every one was moodyand frightened. For a little while, we sat about in our bunks and on thechests, and no one said a word. The watch below were all asleep, and notone of them knew what had happened.
All at once, Plummer, whose wheel it was, stepped over the starboardwashboard, into the fo'cas'le.
"What's up, anyway?" he asked. "Is Williams much 'urt?"
"Sh!" I said. "You'll wake the others. Who's taken your wheel?"
"Tammy--ther Second sent 'im. 'e said I could go forrard an' 'ave ersmoke. 'e said Williams 'ad 'ad er fall."
He broke off, and looked across the fo'cas'le.
"Where is 'e?" he inquired, in a puzzled voice.
I glanced at the others; but no one seemed inclined to start yarningabout it.
"He fell from the t'gallant rigging!" I said.
"Where is 'e?" he repeated.
"Smashed up," I said. "He's lying on the hatch."
"Dead?" he asked.
I nodded.
"I guessed 'twere somethin' pretty bad, when I saw the Old Man comeforrard. 'ow did it 'appen?"
He looked round at the lot of us sitting there silent and smoking.
"No one knows," I said, and glanced at Stubbins. I caught him eyeing me,doubtfully.
After a moment's silence, Plummer spoke again.
"I 'eard 'im screech, when I was at ther wheel. 'e must 'ave got 'urt upaloft."
Stubbins struck a match and proceeded to relight his pipe.
"How d'yer mean?" he asked, speaking for the first time.
"'ow do I mean? Well, I can't say. Maybe 'e jammed 'is fingers betweenther parrel an' ther mast."
"What about 'is swearin' at ther Second Mate? Was that 'cause 'e'djammed 'is fingers?" put in Quoin.
"I never 'eard about that," said Plummer. "'oo 'eard 'im?
"I should think heverybody in ther bloomin' ship heard him," Stubbinsanswered. "All ther same, I hain't sure he _was_ swearin' at ther SecondMate. I thought at first he'd gone dotty an' was cussin' him; butsomehow it don't seem likely, now I come to think. It don't stand toreason he should go to cuss ther man. There was nothin' to go cussin'about. What's more, he didn't seem ter be talkin' down to us on deck--what I could make hout. 'sides, what would he want ter go talkin' tother Second about his pay-day?"
He looked across to where I was sitting. Jock, who was smoking, quietly,on the chest next to me, took his pipe slowly out from between histeeth.
"Ye're no far oot, Stubbins, I'm thinkin'. Ye're no far oot," he said,nodding his head.
Stubbins still continued to gaze at me.
"What's your idee?" he said, abruptly.
It may have been my fancy, but it seemed to me that there was somethingdeeper than the mere sense the question conveyed.
I glanced at him. I couldn't have said, myself, just what my idea was.
"I don't know!" I answered, a little adrift. "He didn't strike me ascursing at the Second Mate. That is, I should say, after the firstminute."
"Just what I say," he replied. "Another thing--don't it strike you asbein' bloomin' queer about Tom nearly comin' down by ther run, an' then_this?_"
I nodded.
"It would have been all hup with Tom, if it hadn't been for thergasket."
He paused. After a moment, he went on again.
"That was honly three or four nights ago!"
"Well," said Plummer. "What are yer drivin' at?"
"Nothin'," answered Stubbins. "Honly it's damned queer. Looks as thoughther ship might be unlucky, after all."
"Well," agreed Plummer. "Things 'as been a bit funny lately; and thenthere's what's 'appened ter-night. I shall 'ang on pretty tight thernext time I go aloft."
Old Jaskett took his pipe from his mouth, and sighed.
"Things is going wrong 'most every night," he said, almost pathetically."It's as diff'rent as chalk 'n' cheese ter what it were w'en we startedthis 'ere trip. I thought it were all 'ellish rot about 'er bein''aunted; but it's not, seem'ly."
He stopped and expectorated.
"She hain't haunted," said Stubbins. "Leastways, not like you mean--"
He paused, as though trying to grasp some elusive thought.
"Eh?" said Jaskett, in the interval.
Stubbins continued, without noticing the query. He appeared to beanswering some half-formed thought in his own brain, rather thanJaskett:
"Things is queer--an' it's been a bad job tonight. I don't savvy one bitwhat Williams was sayin' of hup aloft. I've thought sometimes he'dsomethin' on 'is mind--"
Then, after a pause of about half a minute, he said this:
"_Who_ was he sayin' that to?"
"Eh?" said Jaskett, again, with a puzzled expression.
"I was thinkin'," said Stubbins, knocking out his pipe on the edge ofthe chest. "P'raps you're right, hafter all."