Apparitions; or, The Mystery of Ghosts, Hobgoblins, and Haunted Houses Developed Part 15

THE

GHOST ON SHIP-BOARD.

A gentleman of high respectability in the navy relates the following story.

"When on a voyage to New York, we had not been four days at sea, before an occurrence of a very singular nature broke in upon our quiet. _It was a ghost!_ One night, when all was still and dark, and the ship rolling at sea before the wind, a man sprung suddenly upon deck in his shirt, his hair erect, his eyes starting from their sockets, and loudly vociferating he had seen a ghost. After his horror had a little subsided, we asked him what he had seen?--he said, the figure of a woman dressed in white, with eyes of flaming fire; that she came to his hammock, and stared him in the face. This we treated as an idle dream, and sent the frantic fellow to his bed. The story became the subject of every one; and the succeeding night produced half a dozen more terrified men to corroborate what had happened the first, and all agreed in the same story, that it was a woman. This rumour daily increasing, at length came to the ears of the captain and officers, who were all equally solicitous to discover the true cause of this terrific report. I placed myself night by night beneath the hammocks to watch its appearance, but all in vain; yet still the appearance was nightly, as usual, and the horrors and fears of the people rather daily increased than diminished. A phantom of this sort rather amused than perplexed my mind; and when I had given over every idea of discovering the cause of this strange circ.u.mstance, and the thing began to wear away, I was surprised, one very dark night, as seated under the boats, with a stately figure in white stalking along the deck! The singularity of the event struck my mind that this must be the very identical ghost which had of late so much disturbed the ship's company. I therefore instantly dropped down from the place I was in, to the deck on which it appeared, when it pa.s.sed me immediately very quickly, turned round, and marched directly forwards. I followed it closely, through the gallery, and out at the head-doors, when the figure instantly disappeared, which very much astonished me. I then leaped upon the forecastle, and asked of the people who were walking there, if such a figure had pa.s.sed them? They replied, No, with some emotion and pleasure, as I had ever ridiculed all their reports on this subject. However, this night-scene between me and the ghost became the theme of the ensuing day. Nothing particular transpired till twelve o'clock, when, as the people were p.r.i.c.king at the tub for their beef, it was discovered Jack Sutton was missing. The ship's company was directly mustered, and Jack was no where to be found.

I then inquired of his messmates the character of the man; and, after a number of interrogatories, one of them said, that poor Sutton used to tell him a number of comical jokes about his walking in his sleep. Now the mystery was unravelled; and this terrific ghost, which had so much alarmed all the sailors, now proved to be the poor unfortunate Jack Sutton, who had walked overboard in his dream."

The first fellow who spread this report, and who shewed such signs of horror, was found on inquiry to be a most flagitious villain, who had murdered a woman, who he believed always haunted him, and the appearance of this sleepwalker confirmed in his mind the ghost of the murdered fair one; for, in such cases, conscience is a busy monitor, and ever active to its own pain and disturbance.

A REMARKABLE STORY

OF

A GHOST,

_Thrice called for, as an Evidence, in a Court of Justice_.

A farmer, on his return from the market at Southam, in the county of Warwick, was murdered. A man went the next morning to his house, and inquired of the mistress, if her husband came home the evening before; she replied, No, and that she was under the utmost anxiety and terror on that account. "Your terror," added he, "cannot equal mine; for, last night, as I lay in bed quite awake, the apparition of your husband appeared to me, shewed me several ghastly stabs in his body; told me that he had been murdered by such a person (naming the man), and his body thrown into such a marl-pit, which he then particularly described.

The alarm was given, the pit searched, the body found, and the wounds answered the description given of them. The man whom the ghost had accused was apprehended, and committed, on a violent suspicion of murder. His trial came on at Warwick, before the Lord Chief Justice Raymond; when the jury would have convicted, as rashly as the magistrate had committed him, had not the judge checked them. He addressed himself to them in words to this purpose--"I think, Gentlemen, you seem inclined to lay more stress on the evidence of an apparition than it will bear. I cannot say that I give much credit to these kind of stories: but, be that as it will, we have no right to follow our own private opinions here. We are now in a court of law, and must determine according to it; and I know of no law now in being, which will admit of the testimony of an apparition: not yet, if it did, doth the ghost appear to give evidence. Crier," said he, "call the ghost." Which was _thrice_ done, to no manner of purpose: it appeared not. "Gentlemen of the Jury," continued the Judge, "the prisoner at the bar, as you have heard by undeniable witnesses, is a man of the most unblemished character; nor has it appeared in the course of the examination, that there was any manner of quarrel or grudge between him and the party deceased. I do believe him to be perfectly innocent; and, as there is no evidence against him, either positive or circ.u.mstantial, he must be acquitted. But, from many circ.u.mstances which have arisen during the trial, I do strongly suspect that the gentleman who saw the apparition was himself the murderer: in which case he might easily ascertain the pit, the wounds, &c. without any supernatural a.s.sistance; and on suspicion, I shall think myself justified in committing him to close custody, till the matter can be fairly inquired into. This was immediately done, and a warrant granted for searching his house; when such strong proofs of guilt appeared against him, that he confessed the murder: for which he was executed.

THE

LADY OF THE BLACK TOWER.

BY MRS. ROBINSON.

"Watch no more the twinkling stars; Watch no more the chalky bourne; Lady, from the holy wars Never will thy love return!

Cease to watch, and cease to mourn; Thy lover never will return!

"Watch no more the yellow moon, Peering o'er the mountain's head; Rosy day, returning soon, Will see thy lover pale and dead!

Cease to weep, and cease to mourn: Thy lover will no more return.

"Lady, in the holy wars, Fighting for the cross, he died; Low he lies, and many scars Mark his cold and mangled side; In his winding-sheet he lies.

Lady, check those rending sighs.

"Hark! the hollow-sounding gale Seems to sweep in murmurs by, Sinking slowly down the vale; Wherefore, gentle lady, sigh?

Wherefore moan, and wherefore sigh?

Lady, all that live must die.

"Now the stars are fading fast, Swift their brilliant course are run: Soon shall dreary night be past, Soon shall rise the cheering sun!

The sun will rise to gladden thee; Lady, lady, cheerful be."

So spake a voice; while, sad and lone, Upon a lofty tow'r reclin'd, A lady sat: the pale moon shone, And sweetly blew the summer wind; Yet still, disconsolate in mind, The lovely lady sat reclin'd.

The lofty tow'r was ivy-clad; And round a dreary forest rose; The midnight bell was tolling sad, 'Twas tolling for a soul's repose.

The lady heard the gates unclose, And from her seat in terror rose.

The summer moon shone bright and clear; She saw the castle gates unclose; And now she saw four monks appear, Loud chanting for a soul's repose.

Forbear, O lady! look no more: They pa.s.s'd--a livid corpse they bore.

They pa.s.s'd, and all was silent now; The breeze upon the forest slept; The moon stole o'er the mountain's brow; Again the lady sigh'd and wept.

She watch'd the holy fathers go Along the forest path below.

And now the dawn was bright; the dew Upon the yellow heath was seen; The clouds were of a rosy hue, The sunny l.u.s.tre shone between: The lady to the chapel ran, While the slow matin pray'r began.

And then, once more, the fathers grey She mark'd, employ'd in holy pray'r; Her heart was full, she could not pray, For love and fear were masters there!

Ah, lady! thou wilt pray, ere long, To sleep those lonely aisles among!

And now the matin pray'rs were o'er; The barefoot monks, of order grey, Were thronging to the chapel door: When there the lady stopp'd the way; "Tell me," she cried, "whose corpse so pale Last night ye bore along the vale?"

"O lady! question us no more: No corpse did we bear down the dale."

The lady sunk upon the floor, Her quiv'ring lip was deathly pale!

The barefoot monks now whisper'd, sad, "G.o.d grant our lady be not mad!"

The monks departing, one by one, The chapel gates in silence close, When from the altar steps of stone The trembling lady feebly goes; While morning sheds a ruby light, The painted windows glowing bright.

And now she heard a hollow sound; It seem'd to come from graves below; And now again she look'd around, A voice came murm'ring sad and slow And now she heard it feebly cry, "Lady, all that live must die!

"Watch no more from yonder tow'r, Watch no more the star of day!

Watch no more the dawning hour, That chases sullen night away!

Cease to watch, and cease to mourn; Thy lover will no more return!"

She look'd around, and now she view'd, Clad in a doublet gold and green, A youthful knight: he frowning stood, And n.o.ble was his mournful mien; And now he said, with heaving sigh, "Lady, all that live must die."

She rose to quit the altar's stone, She cast a look to heav'n, and sigh'd: When, lo! the youthful knight was gone; And, scowling by the lady's side, With sightless skull and bony hand, She saw a giant spectre stand!

His flowing robe was long and clear, His ribs were white as drifted snow.

The lady's heart was chill'd with fear; She rose, but scarce had power to go: The spectre grinn'd a dreadful smile, And walk'd beside her down the aisle.

And now he wav'd his ratt'ling hand; And now they reach'd the chapel door, And there the spectre took his stand; While, rising from the marble floor, A hollow voice was heard to cry, "Lady, all that live must die.

"Watch no more the evening star!

Watch no more the glimpse of morn!

Never from the holy war, Lady, will thy love return!

See this b.l.o.o.d.y cross; and, see, His b.l.o.o.d.y scarf he sends to thee!"

And now again the youthful knight Stood smiling by the lady's side!