The Ghost Ship Part 3

"I think, sir," I continued, "that was done merely to speak us; and if she bore away again, as she was probably forced to do, being at the mercy of the gale, she must be scudding even more to the southwards, almost due south, I should fancy, as the wind has backed again more to the nor'ard since this."

"I fancy the same, my boy. I see you have a sailor's eye and have got your wits about you. Quartermaster?"

"Aye, aye, sir?"

"Let her off a point or two gradually until you bring her head about sou'-sou'-west, and keep her so."

"Aye, aye, sir," responded Atkins, easing her off as required. "Sou'- sou'-west it shall be, sir, in a minute."

"That will bring us across her, I think," said the skipper to me. "But we must go a little faster if we want to overtake her. What are we doing now, eh?"

"I don't quite know, sir," I answered to this question. "I was only just coming up on the bridge to relieve Mr Spokeshave when I sighted the ship and have not had time to look at the indicator. I should think, though, we're going eight or nine knots."

This didn't satisfy the skipper, so he turned to the first mate, who had remained moodily aloof with Spokeshave at the end of the bridge.

"Mr Fosset," he sang out abruptly, "what are the engines doing?"

"About thirty revolutions, sir; half speed, as nearly as possible."

"How much are we going altogether?"

"Ten knots, with our sails," replied the other. "The wind is freshening, too."

"So I see," said Captain Applegarth laconically.

"And it'll freshen still more by-and-bye if I'm not mistaken!"

"Yes, it looks as if we're going to have a bit of a blow. The scud is flying all over us now that we are running before the wind. I really think we ought to ease down, sir, for the screw races fearfully as she dips and I'm afraid of the shaft."

"I'm responsible for that, Mr Fosset," answered the skipper as, moving the handle of the gong on the bridge communicating with the engine-room, he directed those in charge below to put on full speed ahead. "I never yet abandoned a ship in distress, and I'm not going to do so now. We're on the right course to overhaul her, now, I think, eh, Haldane?"

"Yes, sir," I replied. "I hope, though, we won't pa.s.s her in the fog, sir, or run into her, perhaps."

"No fear of that, my boy: The fog is lifting now and the night will soon be as clear as a bell, for the wind is driving all the mists away.

Besides, we'll take precautions against any accident happening. Mr Fosset?"

"Aye, aye, sir?"

"Put a couple of lookouts on the fo'c's'le."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Perhaps, too, we'd better send up a rocket to let 'em know we're about.

Mr Spokeshave? Mr Spokeshave?"

No answer came this time, however, from my friend, Master "Conky,"

though he had been ready enough just now with his aggravating "quite so."

"I think, sir," said I, "Mr Spokeshave has gone below to his tea."

"Very likely," replied the skipper drily; "he's precious fond of his breadbasket, that young gentleman. I don't think he'll ever starve where there's any grub knocking about. Fancy a fellow, calling himself a man, thinking of his belly at such a moment! Go, Haldane, and call him up again and tell him I want him."

I started to obey Captain Applegarth's order, but I had hardly got three steps down the ladder when Spokeshave saved me further trouble by coming up on the bridge again of his own accord, without waiting to be summoned.

The skipper, therefore, gave him instructions to let off, every quarter of an hour, a couple of signal rockets and burn a blue light or two over our port and starboard quarter alternately as we proceeded towards the object of our quest.

"All right, sir; quite so!" said "Conky," as well as he could articulate, his mouth being full of something he had hurriedly s.n.a.t.c.hed from the steward's pantry when he had gone below, and brought up with him to eat on deck, knowing that the skipper would be sure to sing out for him if he remained long away at so critical a juncture. "All right, sir; quite so!"

The skipper laughed as he went down again to get the rockets and blue lights which were kept in a spare cabin aft for safety.

"He's a rum chap, that little beggar," he observed to Mr Fosset, who had been forward to set the look-out men on the forecastle and had returned to the bridge. "I think if you told him he was the laziest loafer that ever ate lobscouse, he couldn't help saying 'Quite so!'"

"You're about right, sir. I think, though, he can't help it; he's got so used to the phrase," replied the other, joining in the skipper's laugh. "But, hullo, here comes old Stokes, panting and puffing along the gangway. I hope nothing's wrong in the engine-room."

"I hope not," said the skipper. "We want to go all we can just now, to overhaul that ship Haldane saw."

"_If_ he saw it," muttered the first officer, under his breath and glowering at me. "A pack of sheer nonsense, I call it, this going out of our course on a wild-goose chase and tearing away full speed on a wild night like this, in a howling sea, with a gale, too, astern; and all because an a.s.s of a youngster fancies he saw the _Flying Dutchman_!"

I daresay the captain heard him, but the appearance just then of Mr Stokes, our chief engineer, who had now reached the bridge, panting and puffing at every step, as Mr Fosset had said, he being corpulent of habit and short-winded, stopped any further controversy on the point as to whether I had seen, or had not seen, the mysterious ship.

"Cap'en, Cap'en Applegarth!" cried out the chief engineer asthmatically as soon as he got within hail, speaking in a tearful voice and almost crying in his excitement. "Are you there, sir?"

"Aye, here I am, Mr Stokes, as large as life, though not quite so big a man as you," answered the skipper jocularly.

"I am here on the bridge, quite at your service."

Mr Stokes, however, was in no jocular mood.

"Cap'en Applegarth," said he solemnly, "did you really mean to ring us on full speed ahead?"

"I did," replied the skipper promptly. "What of that?"

"What of that?" repeated the old engineer, dumbfounded by this return shot. "Why, sir, the engines can't stand it. That is all, if you must have it!"

"Can't stand what?"

"They can't stand all this driving and racing, with the propeller blades half out of water every second revolution of the shaft. No engines could stand it, with such a heavy sea on and the ship rolling and pitching all the time like a merry-go-round at Barnet Fair. The governor is no good; and, though Grummet or Links have their grip on the throttle valve all the while to check the steam, and I've every stoker and oiler on duty, the bearings are getting that heated that I'm afraid of the shaft breaking at any moment. Full speed, sir? Why, we can't do it, sir, we can't do it!"

"Nonsense, Stokes," said the skipper good-humouredly. "You must do it, old fellow."

"But, I tell you, Cap'en Applegarth, the engines can't stand it without breaking down, and then where will you be, I'd like to know?"

"I'll risk that."

"No, cap'en," snorted the old chief, doggedly. "I'm responsible to the owners for the engines, and if anything happened to the machinery they'd blame me. I can't do it."

The skipper flew up to white heat at this.

"But, Mr Stokes, recollect I am responsible for the ship, engines and all, sir. The greater includes the less, and, as captain of this ship, I intend to have my orders carried out by every man-jack on board. Do you hear that?"