The Flying Bo'sun Part 11

It was while doing this work that I fell to pondering my responsibilities to the owners, the crew and the consignees. We were carrying about five hundred thousand feet of select lumber to Suva, Fiji Islands. I had never visited these islands, but had read of their submerged reefs and tricky currents. Up to this time I had taken my responsibilities negatively, being of the age when one is not taken seriously, and I must say being rather inclined to lean on those higher up. This latter is, I believe, very destructive to one's self-confidence and determination, those qualities so necessary in fitting one for leadership both by land and sea.

In cleaning up the Captain's cabin I was deeply impressed with his remarkable sense of order. His best clothes were lashed to a part.i.tion to keep from chafing by the roll of the ship. The ash-tray was fastened to the floor across the room and opposite the bed, and there also stood tobacco, matches, cigars and spittoon. When using these things he would have to get up and move clear across the room from his writing-desk or bed, which seemed out of place for a sailorman.

(Captains whom I sailed with usually disregarded any and all sense of order, preferring not to interfere with the laws of gravity, particularly when chewing tobacco. But if these same white shirts happened to leave the hand of the sailor who washed them with any remnant of stain, His Majesty could be heard swearing all over the ship.)

For the past three days everything has been going beautifully, with the wind free and fair. We are clipping it off at ten knots an hour.

Tonight I noticed that the man at the wheel acted rather queerly, and was not steering at all well. The men looked continually from left to right, acting as if they feared that some one was going to strike them.

It was during the middle watch that I heard a conversation in the forecastle between Riley, Old Charlie and Broken-Nosed Pete. Charlie was trying to convince Pete by saying:

"You may not understand, but it is true, none the less. Look at me in the 'Mud Puddler.'"

The suspense of this argument was evidently getting on Riley's nerves.

He interrupted with, "d.a.m.n it all, man, I tell you he is back on the ship. Haven't we all heard him prancing around in his room? Upon my sowl, I have felt him looking into the compa.s.s. Oh, be Hivins, me good man, you will see him soon enough."

Here Old Charlie once more took the floor. "Riley," said he, "I believe that he has come back to warn us of some danger."

"Divil a bit av danger we will be having." This with bravado.

"You know he may have come back to find his knife. You remember when you sewed him up you found it in his bed."

"Ah, go wan, you durty ape, didn't I throw it overboard with him?"

"It may be he wants to talk with some one."

"Be Hivins, shure I don't want to talk wit him. Why sure'n I don't know the man at all. I niver shpoke a wurd to him on this ship."

"Well, it does seem that he is trying to manifest himself to you more than to any one on this ship. Why not ask him if you can help him in any way?" Evidently this conversation was getting too creepy for Riley for he changed the subject, declaring with great feeling that he had never seen a more beautiful night, and so near Christmas too.

But Charlie was not to be put off that way.

"Riley," he said, "can't you feel him around here at this moment?"

"Ah, go wan, to h.e.l.l wit you, sure'n you will have him keepin' the lookout wit you the next we hear."

I was so much interested in what I had heard that I jumped up onto the forecastle head. I came upon them so suddenly that Riley jumped back exclaiming, "Hivinly Father, and what is this?"

He seemed greatly relieved when I spoke and said artfully:

"Isn't this a beautiful night? See how large and bright those stars are there," pointing to the Southern Cross. "You men seem to have some secret about this ship,--what is it?" I continued, as my remark met with no response.

Old Charlie cleared his throat, and, looking towards Riley as if for an approval, said solemnly: "Things are not as they should be aft."

"What is it? Aren't you being treated well? Aren't you getting enough to eat?"

"Oh, it isn't that at all, sir," broke in Riley.

"Hold on, Riley, let me explain," and Old Charlie once more cleared his throat.

"As I was saying, we believe that the ghost of the Captain is back on board," tapping the deck with his foot.

I felt that a word of encouragement was necessary if I expected to be let in on the mystery. "Well," said I, "that is nothing. Men who have been taken suddenly out of this life may perhaps have left some important business unfinished, and the most natural thing in the world is for them to find some one whom they can converse with."

"That's just what I was telling Riley, sir, that very same thing, and you know Riley seems to have more influence with him than any one so far."

"Influence is it?" said Riley, "and shure, sir, he is a stranger intirely to me."

"Tell me about it, Riley."

"It's a d.a.m.ned strange thing, sir. Well, it was me watch from ten to twelve. I was just after striking six bells, when I takes a chew of me tobacco, and ses I to myself I had better be careful where I spit around here. I know, sir, you don't like tobacco juice on the paint-work. Reaching down to locate the spit-box to make sure that I could do it daycently, be me sowl, sur, something flipped by me.

Shtraitening up, ses I to meself, ses I, 'Be Hivins, and it must be the blood running to me head.' I took a look at the compa.s.s, and she was one point to windward of her course. You were forward, sir, taking a pull on the forestaysail-halyards, and I ses to meself, 'Sure an if he comes aft and catches me with her off her course he will flail me like he did the big Swede.' Ah, an shure it is the fine bye he is now. There's the Squarehead so rejuced he even offers to wash me tin plate for me. Well, I got her back on her course, when all of a sudden I heard the divil's own noise in the Captain's room. Ses I to myself, ses I, 'Mike Riley, don't be a d.a.m.ned fool and belave iverything you hear.' But look as I would I could not keep my eyes from the window of the Captain's room, whin lo and behold, I got a glimpse of his face looking out at me.

'Hivenly Father,' ses I, 'give me strenk and faith in yous to finish me watch.' Glory be to G.o.d, sir, I lost me head, and it's hard up wit me helm I was doing, when you shouted, 'Where in h.e.l.l are you going with her?' Be Hivins, and I was going straight back with her."

During this story Broken-Nosed Pete kept edging closer, seemingly impressed, and about to become a convert to Riley's sincerity, while Old Charlie was just revelling in the details of the apparition, and at times, thinking that Riley was not doing justice to his subject in creating the proper amount of enthusiasm, would interrupt by saying, "There you are now. Just as I was saying. One couldn't expect anything else,"--and so forth.

These remarks seemed to resolve any doubts that may have existed in Riley's mind of the genuineness of the face at the window.

CHAPTER XII

THE COOK'S WATCH--MATERIALISM VERSUS ASTRALISM

I had the key to the Captain's room in my pocket and knew that no one was in there, but Riley's story had taken such a serious trend that I decided to withhold the news from them.

"Well, Riley," I said carelessly, "you are easily frightened, when Toby can scare you like this."

Here they all jumped toward me, and started to talk at once. Charlie, calling for order, decided that now was the time to fix me forever. He introduced Broken-Nosed Pete, who had always been inclined to be skeptical, to put the finishing touches on Riley's story.

Pete, I may state, when he was rational, was unaffected in his speech by the rather unusual list of his nose. But tonight, moved by powerful feelings, he threw convention to the winds, and spoke in loud nasal tones, and with gestures befitting an orator.

"Go on," said Charlie, pushing him forward, "tell him, Pete."

"I had just called the watch below," he began, "and was taking my smoke and a bite of lunch. By that time it was eight bells. I was pulling down my blankets about to turn in, when I sees Riley coming down the scuttle with his cap in his hand and very warm looking. 'Is Toby in here?' ses Riley. 'He is,' ses I. 'He is over in Russian-Finn John's bunk.' 'Holy Mother of G.o.d,' ses Riley, 'get me a drink of water, 'tis fainting I am.' 'What's wrong, Riley?' I asks. 'Oh, be Hivins,' ses he, 'I have made the mistake of me life by ever shipping on this dirty old graveyard.' As for the rest, sir, you have heard it from Riley."

"Was Riley scared when he came into the forecastle?" I asked.

"Yes, sir, he swore horribly, and threatened to kill anybody who put out the light."

"Well, we will all have some fun catching this ghost of yours. I will give an extra day's leave in Suva to the man who helps me. What do you say to that, men?" Charlie volunteered willingly. Pete was rather shy.

"Riley, let us hear from you."

"What is it you want us to do, sir?"