IN DANGER FROM A WATERSPOUT.—CAUGHT IN A GALE.—SEPARATED FROM OUR CONSORT.—A GHOST ON THE WASHINGTON!

At daylight the next morning the Warwick was about four miles ahead and a little to the south of the Washington. The night had been clear with a steady wind blowing, and each ship had laid its course perfectly. The Warwick shortened sail a little, so that about noon we came up to within hailing distance of the Warwick. Our first mate, Mr. Stevens, hailed, and asked how things were going.

"All right, sir," was the reply. "Everything all right on board, and Warwick's people getting 'on comfortably. Don't think any more of 'em will die."

Then we gave them latitude and longitude, and after that the ships steered away from each other and sailed along about a mile apart.

It was partly a feeling of humanity and partly a practical desire for making money for himself and owners that prompted our captain to reduce his own crew in order to save the Warwick and the people on board of her. The Warwick's cargo was a valuable one, and the ship was also worth quite a handsome amount of money, as she was only three years old, substantially built, and well rigged throughout. The salvage on her would be very large, at least so Bill Haines said, probably sixty or seventy per cent, and that would be distributed among the owners of the Washington, her captain, and the salvage crew that went on board the Warwick. I asked Haines if those who stayed behind on the Warwick would get anything, and he said he believed not. I intimated that it was hardly fair to leave us out, as we had to perform, in addition to our own duties, all the work that would have been done by those who had left us.

"You'll find out, sonny, as you go along in life," said Haines, "that it isn't all fair sailing and fair play. Them that does the least work gets the highest pay. They couldn't sail a ship at all without sailors before the mast; a ship has got to have a crew anyway, but they don't pay the crew nothing like what they pays the captain and mates."

I accepted Bill's logic at the time, and thought that the men before the mast were unjustly treated. Since I became mate and captain I see things in a different light, and that the officers get higher wages than the crew because they deserve them. I might have told Bill at the time that a ship could not sail without officers any more than she could sail without a crew; but you never think of these smart answers until after it is too late to give them.

We continued on our course, keeping a sharp lookout for our former acquaintance, the British man-of-war, and for any other of her kind that might be floating about the ocean. At that time Great Britain had nearly a thousand ships-of-war of various kinds, large and small, and kept them in pretty active service. You never knew when or where you were likely to run against one of them; whenever you did meet one there was a chance that she would take some of your men in the manner already described. So it was the American policy to keep out of their reach, if possible, and we could generally distinguish them from other ships, as already explained, by their neat and trim appearance as compared with merchantmen.

It was four or five days after we met the Warwick that the man at the mast-head gave a call that put a new sensation in our veins. We had become a little listless in our work, as the routine was exactly the same from day to day, and from watch to watch, and though we were in considerable dread as to what might be coming, the thrill of excitement was by no means unwelcome.

A south-easterly breeze was blowing, and the skies above us were very dark, in fact, they grew so dark as to make the broad midday that it was seem like twilight, and though the Warwick was only two or three miles away from us we couldn't make her out. The man at the mast-head said it looked as if a squall was coming, and the captain paced the quarter-deck in a very uneasy mood.

Suddenly and noiselessly a strange apparition descended out of the blackness of the heavens! It looked to me as though a portion of a cloud was descending toward the water. When it came down to within fifteen or twenty feet of the sea the waters beneath it began to boil and twist and foam. It was not more than a third of a mile away from the ship, and the worst thing about it was that it came directly towards us. It resembled an inverted cone touching the surface of the ocean, and the water seemed to rise up to meet it.

My friend Haines was up aloft helping to take in the mainsail, so that I could not ask him what the strange apparition was. By and by he came down and around to where I stood, and as he reached me he remarked,—

"That's a dangerous thing, Jack! More dangerous than a British man-of-war!"

"What is it?" I asked.

"That's a waterspout," he replied, "and a big one too. I never saw one quite as large as that, nor as white. They're most of 'em black, sometimes blacker even than the sky above is now, but this one, you see, is a good deal whiter. If it ever hits us we're gone to the bottom!"

"How does that happen?" I asked. "Does it let down a great lot of water on the ship?"

"Yes, that's just what it does! It lets down water enough to drown a ship and sink her out of sight. It's just as if you should empty a whole barrel of water over one of the toy boats you used to make when you were a small boy."

Nearer and nearer came the waterspout toward us. The captain went below and brought out a musket, a weapon that had done duty in Revolutionary times.

"What's he got that for?" I asked; "I hope he isn't going to shoot anybody."

"No," said Haines, "he won't shoot anybody on board the ship; what he's after is to shoot the waterspout if it comes too near."

"What good will that do?"

"If you shoot into a waterspout," replied Haines, "it will break up and tumble into the sea, provided you are lucky enough to hit it right in the center and before it gets too near the ship. I've seen that done two or three times. Some sailors declare it's no use, but I know better, and every ship I go to sea on I hope will have a gun to shoot waterspouts with."

According to my reckoning the dreaded column came within two hundred yards of the Washington; then it seemed to stop and move away toward the southward, where it disappeared. Whether it broke up or continued to hold together I don't know, but just as it went out of sight in the clouds there was a squall struck us, and danced the Washington around pretty lively. As we had made everything snug when the squall was first reported, it did no particular harm, but I noticed that it whitened several of the faces of the men standing around me.

Haines told me that it used to be believed that the waterspouts in the Atlantic Ocean were really dragons or great serpents in the air. Some thought that the waterspout was a terrible animal living in the bottom of the sea, and some declared them to be black serpents passing from the desert into the sea, and living five hundred years. One of the old writers, in a book I've seen since I've quit the sea-faring life, says that in the Gulf of Salato every month in the year a great black dragon is seen to come from the clouds and put its head into the water. Its tail seems as though it were fixed in the sky, and this dragon drinks so greedily that it swallows any ships that may come in the water, along with their crews and cargo, be they ever so heavy.

It used to be the custom on French and Spanish ships, when waterspouts appeared, for the sailors to hold a religious service, raising their swords and holding them against each other in the shape of a cross. It was claimed that this would cause the dragon to flee, as he is an infidel, and always takes flight when he sees the Christian cross.

One old writer, Thevenot, says he was an eye-witness of just such a scene when the mariners drove away a waterspout in the manner described. In another instance one of the ship's company knelt down by the mainmast, held in his hand a knife with a black handle, and read the Gospel according to St. John. When he came to the words, "Et verbum carne factum est et habitant in nobis" (And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us), the man turned towards the waterspout, and with his knife cut the air as if he were cutting the dragon or a demon. Immediately the water fell with a great noise, and the ship was saved.

Nothing of consequence happened for two days after the adventure with the waterspout. At the end of the second day a gale sprang up and blew with such a velocity for twelve or fourteen hours that the safety of the ship was greatly endangered. All the sails were taken in, with the exception of the least bit of a rag of a foresail and jib, just enough to hold the Washington around with her head to the wind. Frequently the waves broke over her bows and threatened to swamp her. The captain ordered the man at the wheel to be securely tied, for fear he would be washed overboard, and everybody on deck at the time took the precaution to lash himself to something whenever his duties did not require him to be moving about deck or climbing into the rigging.

It was well that we took this precaution; at any rate, it was well that I did. Several times the seas were so heavy that I'm sure I should have been washed overboard if I had not been lashed to the foot of the mainmast, and held on with all my might to the halliards that were attached to it. As you already know, it was David's watch below while I was on deck; when the watches were changed I told him what I had been doing, and advised him to follow my example.

He did so, and told me afterward that he thought my advice had saved him from being washed overboard. It was the first real gale of the voyage, and consequently the first that David and I had ever seen. We wished ourselves back at home in Pembroke, but wishing did not help the matter a bit; and we resigned ourselves to whatever fate had in store for us.

All on board the Washington had a good deal of anxiety concerning the Warwick, as she was so short-handed in crew. With only one officer and six men it would be necessary for all of them to be on duty through the entire night. There was no such thing as standing watch and watch in a gale like that.

When the morning came we looked anxiously all about the horizon, the mate going aloft with the captain's glass and sweeping every part of the ocean as far as he could see. He must have staid up there fully an hour; every eye was watching him, and every ear listening in the hope of hearing him call out "Sail ho!" and indicate the direction where the sail appeared. But he made no call, and descended finally to the deck. He shook his head as the captain spoke to him, and we all knew just as well as though he had told us that the Warwick was not in sight.

We had been driven a considerable distance out of our course by the gale. As the wind abated we put on a little sail, and increased the quantity at intervals as the wind dropped down. When we had resumed our course and were moving along at a fair pace I looked to the south and saw, perhaps eight or ten miles away from us, a solid wall of what seemed to be land. I was about to say so to the men who were nearest to me, but checked myself just in time to avoid a display of my ignorance. Haines was a little distance away from me, near the foot of the foremast, and so I sidled up to him and asked him to look in the direction that I indicated. I did not suggest what I thought that bank was, and left him to enlighten me or not. We seemed to be approaching the shore with considerable rapidity, and yet we were sailing parallel to it, and not in its direction.

"That fog-bank will be on us pretty quick," Haines remarked; and then I knew that what I had supposed to be land was nothing more than fog.

"Get out your knife, Jack," said Haines, "and be ready to slash yer way through it. That's one of them fogs that's made out 'er pea-soup and water mixed with a lot of air. When it gets on us you won't be able to see the length of the ship, and just so long as that fog stays we might as well be sailing in a wash-tub for all that we can see around us."

I kept my eye on the fog-bank and saw that it neared us rapidly until it reached us. All around and above the air was clear, and it did not take much imagination to suppose that a great monster was coming out of the south to overwhelm us.

In some parts of the world the fog is supposed to be the abode of spirits, and in former times the fog itself was believed to be a spirit which had taken that shape. Some of our sailors seemed to have a particular dread of the fog, not so much for its disagreeable nature and the possibility of having a collision with another ship while shut up in the fog-bank, but an uncanny feeling growing out of their superstitions. I didn't have any superstitious fear at all concerning it, but it certainly gave me a very uncomfortable sensation when I saw it coming.

Well, when that fog arrived, it seemed as though it would swamp us. Actually, you couldn't see from one end of the ship to the other, and if there had been a thousand ships close around us we couldn't have seen one of them until we ran into her or got near enough to be in danger. In a little while the sails and rigging were wet as though there had been a heavy shower, and the water dripped from them in all directions. There was no need of washing the deck when the mist had been on us for an hour or more, as the fog drenched it and the rolling of the ship caused the water to pass out through the scuppers. My clothes were wet through, as though I had been overboard without taking them off, and it seemed to me that I was breathing a mixture of air and water in about equal proportions, and ran the risk of being drowned in consequence.

The fog remained with us the greater part of the day, not blowing away until nearly nightfall. It went as suddenly as it came, and we were all glad to see it disappear.

When the fog had gone away Mr. Stevens went aloft again with the captain's telescope, but with the same result as before; the Warwick was nowhere to be seen.

We settled down to another night of anxiety concerning our companion ship, and our talk on the subject showed that our fears for the safety of our consort had been greatly increased in the past twenty-four hours. Some of the men felt entirely sure that the Warwick was lost, others had grave doubts, and others again were quite hopeful of her safety. Among those in the last category was my friend Haines, and he demonstrated the reason for his belief by setting forth his faith in Mr. Johnson and the men who accompanied him.

"Johnson has the nerve of a thunderbolt," said Haines, "and he's got the wearing qualities of a piece of steel. The men as went with him were among the best on the ship, all good, able-bodied seamen, and the kind of men you want to stick to when you know 'em. Johnson knew just what to do with the ship when the gale came on, and you can bet he did it. We'll see if the Warwick don't turn up at the point where we was to meet her in case we got blowed apart."

The night passed quietly and the next day came on bright and beautiful. We had a good eight-knot breeze on our starboard quarter and everything spread that would draw. After the sun was well up, the mate climbed again into the rigging and scanned the horizon all around in search of the Warwick. She wasn't to be seen anywhere; again the spirit of gloom passed over the ship's company, and the question that rose most prominently in every mind was, "Shall we ever see the Warwick again?"

A rumor went about that a ghost had been seen on board the ship during the night. With each repetition the story increased, until finally it included Mr. Johnson, our second mate, and all the men who were with him, their specters having been seen in solemn procession by the man at the wheel just before the watch was changed at midnight.

It was two or three hours before the report reached the captain's ears; and I may remark that very often on shipboard a story may be circulating for days and weeks among the men of the crew, and the captain know nothing about it. As soon as Captain Dawson—I believe I haven't told you before the name of our commander—heard about the ghost, he proceeded to take active measures concerning him. All hands were called; the men were ordered to stand up in line, and then the captain began at one end of it and questioned each man successively.

"Did you see any ghost last night?" he said to the first.

"No, sir, I did not," was the laconic reply.

"Did you see any ghost last night?" Captain Dawson asked, addressing the second man.

"No, sir, I did not."

In this way he questioned each man until he came to the ninth or tenth, I forget which, one of the two men whom the British officer was about to take away at the time we were intercepted, as I have told in a previous chapter. When the question was asked, the man raised his hand to his head in form of a salute, and replied,—

"I don't know, sir, but I thought I did."

"Well, tell me what it was that you thought you saw."