Many Cargoes

“Lot o’ rain we’ve had this summer,” said the skipper, in a meditative bawl.

“Ay, ay, sir,” said Bob. “Sailing-ship on the port bow, sir.”

The conversation dropped, the skipper, anxious to divert his thoughts, watching the dark mass of sail as it came plunging out of the darkness into the moonlight until it was abreast of his own craft. His eyes followed it as it passed his quarter, so that he saw not the stealthy approach of the cat which came from behind the companion, and sat down close by him. For over thirty hours the animal had been subjected to the grossest indignities at the hands of every man on board the ship except one. That one was the skipper, and there is no doubt but that its subsequent behaviour was a direct recognition of that fact. It rose to its feet, and crossing over to the unconscious skipper, rubbed its head affectionately and vigorously against his leg.

From simple causes great events do spring. The skipper sprang four yards, and let off a screech which was the subject of much comment on the barque which had just passed. When Bob, who came shuffling up at the double, reached him he was leaning against the side, incapable of speech, and shaking all over.

“Anything wrong, sir?” inquired the seaman anxiously, as he ran to the wheel.

The skipper pulled himself together a bit, and got closer to his companion.

“Believe me or not, Bob,” he said at length, in trembling accents, “just as you please, but the ghost of that—cat, I mean the ghost of that poor affectionate animal which I drowned, and which I wish I hadn’t, came and rubbed itself up against my leg.”

“Which leg?” inquired Bob, who was ever careful about details.

“What the blazes does it matter which leg?” demanded the skipper, whose nerves were in a terrible state. “Ah, look—look there!”

The seaman followed his outstretched finger, and his heart failed him as he saw the cat, with its back arched, gingerly picking its way along the side of the vessel.

“I can’t see nothing,” he said doggedly.

“I don’t suppose you can, Bob,” said the skipper in a melancholy voice, as the cat vanished in the bows; “it’s evidently only meant for me to see. What it means I don’t know. I’m going down to turn in. I ain’t fit for duty. You don’t mind being left alone till the mate comes up, do you?”

“I ain’t afraid,” said Bob.

His superior officer disappeared below, and, shaking the sleepy mate, who protested strongly against the proceedings, narrated in trembling tones his horrible experiences.

“If I were you “—said the mate.

“Yes?” said the skipper, waiting a bit. Then he shook him again, roughly.

“What were you going to say?” he inquired.

“Say?” said the mate, rubbing his eyes. “Nothing.”

“About the cat?” suggested the skipper.

“Cat?” said the mate, nestling lovingly down in the blankets again. “Wha’ ca’—goo’ ni’”—

Then the skipper drew the blankets from the mate’s sleepy clutches, and, rolling him backwards and forwards in the bunk, patiently explained to him that he was very unwell, that he was going to have a drop of whiskey neat, and turn in, and that he, the mate, was to take the watch. From this moment the joke lost much of its savour for the mate.

“You can have a nip too, Dick,” said the skipper, proffering him the whiskey, as the other sullenly dressed himself.

“It’s all rot,” said the mate, tossing the spirits down his throat, “and it’s no use either; you can’t run away from a ghost; it’s just as likely to be in your bed as anywhere else. Good-night.”

He left the skipper pondering over his last words, and dubiously eyeing the piece of furniture in question. Nor did he retire until he had subjected it to an analysis of the most searching description, and then, leaving the lamp burning, he sprang hastily in, and forgot his troubles in sleep.

It was day when he awoke, and went on deck to find a heavy sea running, and just sufficient sail set to keep the schooner’s head before the wind as she bobbed about on the waters. An exclamation from the skipper, as a wave broke against the side and flung a cloud of spray over him, brought the mate’s head round.

“Why, you ain’t going to get up?” he said, in tones of insincere surprise.

“Why not?” inquired the other gruffly.

“You go and lay down agin,” said the mate, “and have a cup o’ nice hot tea an’ some toast.”

“Clear out,” said the skipper, making a dash for the wheel, and reaching it as the wet deck suddenly changed its angle. “I know you didn’t like being woke up, Dick; but I got the horrors last night. Go below and turn in.”

“All right,” said the mollified mate.

“You didn’t see anything?” inquired the skipper, as he took the wheel from him.

“Nothing at all,” said the other.

The skipper shook his head thoughtfully, then shook it again vigorously, as another shower-bath put its head over the side and saluted him.

“I wish I hadn’t drowned that cat, Dick,” he said.

“You won’t see it again,” said Dick, with the confidence of a man who had taken every possible precaution to render the prophecy a safe one.

He went below, leaving the skipper at the wheel idly watching the cook as he performed marvellous feats of jugglery, between the galley and the fo’c’sle, with the men’s breakfast.

A little while later, leaving the wheel to Sam, he went below himself and had his own, talking freely, to the discomfort of the conscious-stricken cook, about his weird experiences of the night before.

“You won’t see it no more, sir, I don’t expect,” he said faintly; “I b’leeve it come and rubbed itself up agin your leg to show it forgave you.”

“Well, I hope it knows it’s understood,” said the other. “I don’t want it to take any more trouble.”

He finished the breakfast in silence, and then went on deck again. It was still blowing hard, and he went over to superintend the men who were attempting to lash together some empties which were rolling about in all directions amidships. A violent roll set them free again, and at the same time separated two chests in the fo’c’sle, which were standing one on top of the other. This enabled Satan, who was crouching in the lower one, half crazed with terror, to come flying madly up on deck and give his feelings full vent. Three times in full view of the horrified skipper he circled the deck at racing speed, and had just started on the fourth when a heavy packing-case, which had been temporarily set on end and abandoned by the men at his sudden appearance, fell over and caught him by the tail. Sam rushed to the rescue.

“Stop!” yelled the skipper.

“Won’t I put it up, sir?” inquired Sam.

“Do you see what’s beneath it?” said the skipper, in a husky voice.

“Beneath it, sir?” said Sam, whose ideas were in a whirl.

“The cat, can’t you see the cat?” said the skipper, whose eyes had been riveted on the animal since its first appearance on deck.

Sam hesitated a moment, and then shook his head.

“The case has fallen on the cat,” said the skipper. “I can see it distinctly.”

He might have said heard it, too, for Satan was making frenzied appeals to his sympathetic friends for assistance.

“Let me put the case back, sir,” said one of the men, “then p’raps the vision ‘ll disappear.”

“No, stop where you are,” said the skipper. “I can stand it better by daylight. It’s the most wonderful and extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen. Do you mean to say you can’t see anything, Sam?”