The Ghost Pirates by William Hodgson

The Ghost Pirates by William Hodgson

Author:William Hodgson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endymion Press


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Hands That Plucked

Directly we reached the deck, the Second Mate gave the order:

“Mizzen t’gallant clewlines and buntlines,” and led the way up on to the poop. He went and stood by the haulyards, ready to lower away. As I walked across to the starboard clewline, I saw that the Old Man was on deck, and as I took hold of the rope, I heard him sing out to the Second Mate.

“Call all hands to shorten sail, Mr. Tulipson.”

“Very good, Sir,” the Second Mate replied. Then he raised his voice:

“Go forrard, you, Jessop, and call all hands to shorten sail. You’d better give them a call in the bosun’s place, as you go.”

“i, i, Sir,” I sung out, and hurried off.

As I went, I heard him tell Tammy to go down and call the Mate.

Reaching the fo’cas’le, I put my head in through the starboard doorway, and found some of the men beginning to turn-in.

“It’s all hands on deck, shorten sail,” I sung out.

I stepped inside.

“Just wot I said,” grumbled one of the men.

“They don’t damn well think we’re goin’ aloft to-night, after what’s happened?” asked another.

“We’ve been up to the main royal,” I answered. “The Second Mate went with us.”

“Wot?” said the first man. “Ther Second Mate hisself?”

“Yes,” I replied. “The whole blooming watch went up.”

“An’ wot ‘appened?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all. We just made a mouthful apiece of it, and came down again.”

“All the same,” remarked the second man, “I don’t fancy goin’ upstairs, after what’s happened.”

“Well,” I replied. “It’s not a matter of fancy. We’ve got to get the sail off her, or there’ll be a mess. One of the ‘prentices told me the glass is falling.”

“Come erlong, boys. We’ve got ter du it,” said one of the older men, rising from a chest, at this point. “What’s it duin’ outside, mate?”

“Raining,” I said. “You’ll want your oilskins.”

I hesitated a moment before going on deck again. From the bunk forrard among the shadows, I had seemed to hear a faint moan.

“Poor beggar!” I thought to myself.

Then the old chap who had last spoken, broke in upon my attention.

“It’s awl right, mate!” he said, rather testily. “Yer needn’t wait.

We’ll be out in er minit.”

“That’s all right. I wasn’t thinking about you lot,” I replied, and walked forrard to Jacobs’s bunk. Some time before, he had rigged up a pair of curtains, cut out of an old sack, to keep off the draught. These, some one had drawn, so that I had to pull them aside to see him. He was lying on his back, breathing in a queer, jerky fashion. I could not see his face, plainly; but it seemed rather pale, in the half-light.

“Jacobs,” I said. “Jacobs, how do you feel now?” but he made no sign to show that he had heard me. And so, after a few moments, I drew the curtains to again, and left him.

“What like does ‘e seem?” asked one of the fellows, as I went towards the door.

“Bad,” I said.



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