WILLIAM HOPE HODGSON: Horror Classics, Supernatural Tales and Poems. William Hope Hodgson
nearly half a minute we stood, listening; but there came no reply. Some of the men said afterwards that they had noticed a curious rattling and vibrating noise aloft that sounded faintly above the hum and swirl of the wind. Like the sound of loose ropes being shaken and slatted together, you know. Whether this noise was really heard, or whether it was something that had no existence outside of their imaginations, I cannot say. I heard nothing of it; but then I was at the tail end of the rope, and furthest from the fore rigging; while those who heard it were on 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 — y piy-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-out and give us a pull.
“ ’e’s as mad as a bloomin’ ’atter,” said Quoin, who was standing foreside 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 you blooming-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 — and the 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 on the sheerpole. The next instant, something fell out of the darkness — a heavy body, that struck the deck near the waiting men, with a tremendous crash and a loud, ringing, wheezy sound that sickened me. Several of the men shouted out loud in their fright, and let go of the haulyards; but luckily the stopper held it, and the yard did not come down. Then, for the 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 that it 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 Second Mate, 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 Williams right enough. The Second Mate told a couple of the men to lift him and straighten 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 spread over the poor beggar. Almost directly, the Captain came hurrying forrard along the decks. He pulled back one end of the ensign, and looked; then he 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 told everything.
“The night’s fine,” said the Captain. “You may as well leave the poor devil 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 the deck.
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 the youngster 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 to occupy his thoughts.
After they had gone aft, we went into the fo’cas’le. Every one was moody and frightened. For a little while, we sat about in our bunks and on the chests, and no one said a word. The watch below were all asleep, and not one of them knew what had happened.
All at once, Plummer, whose wheel it was, stepped over the starboard washboard, 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 er smoke. ’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 yarning about 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 come forrard. ’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 up aloft.”
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 between ther parrel an’ ther mast.”
“What about ’is swearin’ at ther Second Mate? Was that ’cause ’e’d jammed ’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,” Stubbins answered. “All ther same, I hain’t sure he was swearin’ at ther Second Mate. I thought at first he’d gone dotty an’ was cussin’ him; but somehow it don’t seem likely, now I come to think. It don’t stand to reason 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’ to ther 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 his teeth.
“Ye’re no far oot, Stubbins, I’m thinkin’. Ye’re no far oot,” he said, nodding his head.
Stubbins