Chapter V (4)

“The Tartar was on old ship, as rickety as a county bridge of our grandsires’ times, though having been a regular tea-wagon in her best days, she had known little crowding and banging. There was still a deal of wear and tear in her leewardly black hull, though I couldn’t say much for its model, which was as near like one of those large Pennsylvania wagons as might be, considering that one was rigged for crossing the seas, and the other the mountains. She had a respectable look, however, if it were only for her size, with her ten gun-ports on a side, her high rails, and a whale-boat on each bow, waist and quarter, except the larboard one, where the mate’s had hung. She was well sparred, her standing rigging being entirely new that voyage, and her ground-tackle of the very best. I noticed this from the first, not dreaming at the moment, that I should have greater cause to remember it afterward. She had two cabins between decks, both of which, as I understood, had been occupied by the captain and his deceased wife—the mates sleeping in the house under the poop, while the boat-steerers, as is the custom in these ships, messed in the steerage. The mulatto steward, who had been several voyages with the captain, slung his hammock in the sail-room. Since the unfortunate death of the lady, the after-cabin had been closed, the doors being locked, and the keys, as I was told, in the steward’s possession. The long cabin in which we dined, and which was separated from the steerage by an unusually strong bulk-head partition, had two small sleeping-berths in it, and over each of which was a star of pistols. A number of boarding-pikes and ship’s cutlasses were ranged round the mast, and a double stand of short muskets gave the midship bulk-head—set off as it was with a few _krungars_[4] and Malayan kreeses—a very warlike appearance. In the sail-room, which was partitioned off from the for’ard cabin, were ranged in order, in their sheaths, the instruments used in capturing and cutting up the whale, consisting of harpoons, long steel-headed lances, fluke-spades, two-edged boarding-knives, and heavy cutting-spades, all kept in excellent order. In showing these implements to me, the second-mate remarked that, as their legitimate work was done for that voyage, it was well enough to have them under his eye, particularly as there were several desperate characters in the ship.

“This second mate was an active, stirring young fellow, certainly an exception to the others. From him and the old Kennebunk carpenter, I afterward learned many particulars of the cruise, which were not set down in the log. The former, at first, appeared to regard me with some dislike, which was natural enough; coming unexpectedly, as I did—it was hard to tell from where—between him and the chief officer’s berth, to which, of course, on the mate’s death, he felt himself entitled. It was just as these jealous notions had worn off, and we were beginning to feel fair and above board toward each other, that the captain sent the steward up one evening, after supper, to say that he wished to see me below.

“‘Mr. Miller,’ said he, in a low voice, as soon as I followed the mulatto down; ‘there is a friend of yours in the after-cabin, who wishes to see you on particular business.’

“He pointed to the door as he spoke, and observing that it was open, and a light shining within, I entered at once; when, to my surprise, I found my friend, the Arab chief, Halil Ben Hamet, disguised as a fisherman, seated before a table covered with papers; his scimetar and a brace of pistols lying within reach of his hand. He saluted me after the Arab fashion, by taking my hand and placing it on his head; and perceiving that Captain Catherton had followed me in, I stood in silence, awaiting an explanation, which, to say the truth, I dreaded. However, his business with me after all was not exactly what I expected, knowing him to be one of the conspirators.

“It seemed that Halil had already reason to fear spies on his track, and anticipating some treachery which might involve the life of Zuma the Circassian, had made arrangements to remove her from the harem to the ship, on the night fixed for the rise. It was useless to gainsay him in this, as he had already settled the thing with the captain, and I knew that he was strongly attached to the female, for whose sake he had run repeated risks under the very eyes of the eunuch. Moreover, he had saved my life when I was beset by assassins near the old Portugese chapel; and I had been his confidant in his intrigue with Zuma, having more than once kept guard at the foot of the castle-wall, while one of the Sultan’s household, who was in Halil’s interest, had admitted him within a secret gate. Accordingly, as soon as he had opened his plans to me, I readily agreed to be at the small rift of sand under the castle an hour after midnight, on Saturday evening—this being Thursday—for the purpose of bringing off the woman; Halil having, by the help of some of his friends on shore, already arranged matters, so that—even if the plot should fail—the search for Zuma would be diverted in an entirely different direction.

“‘But, gentlemen,’ said I, in Arabic, looking at Captain Catherton, who understood something of the language, ‘we must look sharp. That black villain is as cunning as the old serpent himself, where women are concerned. He’ll have the ship searched from truck to kelson, if it were only for the chance of getting me in a scrape—depend upon it.’

“‘Well,’ answered the captain in English, while his dark face grew a shade paler by the lamp, ‘it’s worth some risk, and I am determined to run it. I’d go after the lady myself, only I think you can manage the thing better, knowing every nook of the cove and the ground about the castle as well as you do. Besides,’ he added, in a way which made me glance round the cabin—where, by the way, I had never been before—‘it’s a true love-affair; and by the rules of blue-water, you know, we’re bound to help them out.’

“‘I am ready,’ I replied, ‘to risk my life twice over for the chief, and to circumvent that accursed eunuch; but I don’t like involving the Tartar.’

“‘I shall sail on Sunday evening,’ interrupted he, with something of the manner in which he lorded it over the other mates. ‘The English frigate goes to sea to-morrow, as one of her lieutenants told me in the Bazaar this morning; we’ll take her berth as soon as she weighs, and the next day but one, we’ll be off with the land-winds.’

“‘Very good, sir,’ I answered, turning round to return to the for’ard cabin, while he went on to explain what had passed to the chief.

“How the latter came on board unperceived, even in his disguise, was a mystery to me, accustomed as I was, by this time, to the ways of the country. I had been on deck nearly all day, with my eyes pretty much about me, and the crew had strict orders to prevent any strangers coming into the ship without my consent, on account of the disease prevailing on shore. However, he might have been smuggled into the Tartar at night, and been on board more or less, for a week, for aught that I knew to the contrary, as I had not seen or heard of him myself, since he made his last attempt to induce me to join the conspiracy, the very day on which the whale-ship came in. In fact, I remembered the moment I had leisure to think, that the canoe in which Captain Catherton usually paddled himself on shore, had been missed from the mizzen-chains for some hours a few nights before. I had been apprehensive that the chief would renew his solicitations for me to take part in the plot, as he seemed to set an unnecessary store upon it, having all along ascribed the late attempt upon my life as having originated with the Sultan; who, he said, had taken umbrage at my leaving his service in the hasty manner which I did. I knew this to be a mistake, for reasons which it is immaterial to mention; and, believing Syed Ben Seeyd, apart from his toadyism to the English, to be a wise and just prince, as the customs of the east go.

“I had always refused to have any concern in the business. I had now good cause for fearing that the scheme was about to explode on the heads of those who devised it, especially after the captain beckoned me back, and I found that Halil was to meet the ship at a point on the Arabian coast, where a brother of his commanded a fort.

“It was impossible to resist his appeal to assist him, with the scimetar, as it were, hanging over both their heads; accordingly, I pledged my faith to bring her off to the ship, provided she could get safely out of the castle, the captain undertaking to secrete her on board, in spite, as he said, of devil or eunuch. I could not help, however, renewing my caution to Halil, whom, Catherton said, he could conceal at the same time, if the conspiracy should be discovered.

“However, the chief appeared to be pretty confident, and our plans being settled, after drinking a glass or two of Muscadene, I made my salaam and went on deck. The night was as hot as usual, the land-wind blowing like a fire-blast, or as the captain—who had been in the Brazils, and who soon followed me up—said, like the breath of an _engenho_, during crop-time. In fact, in the silence of the harbor, the dim wall of rocks on either side of the passage seemed glowing with heat, until one almost fancied that he saw the very lights on shore dancing in the tremulous motion of the air, just as he had seemed to see the stones and bushes at noon; while every now and then, a bat, as large as a pigeon, wheeled past your ear, and some sort of sand-piper, common on that coast, sent up its whistle, in two mellow, plaintive notes, as if it were too hot for even the birds to sleep. Whether it was fancy or not, the place seemed to smell like a vast charnel-house, still as it was at that hour—the disease still spreading in the town, and having even boarded one or two of the Arab craft, as I knew. However, Catherton, I must say, appeared to stand it easily enough, sitting under the awning on the poop, with his broad breast bare, and a sheroot in his teeth. Boats were passing from the English frigate to the town, which was out of sight from where we lay, and after some remarks about her going to sea the next day, Catherton quietly asked me, if I had ever heard an opinion expressed on shore, respecting the beauty of Zuma, the Circassian.

“‘She is uncommonly handsome, I suppose,’ said he, seeing that I hesitated to answer his question.

“‘So report says,’ I replied; ‘though, as you may suppose, few can boast of having seen her face.’

“‘They say,’ continued he, pursuing the subject, ‘that she cost the sultan a round sum; for she is not his wife, as I understand from the old Parsee, but only his favorite slave. It is natural enough for her to hate him, as they say he has four wives already.’

“‘Why,’ said I, getting into a gossiping strain myself, to relieve my mind of more serious thoughts, as it were, ‘Syed Ben Seeyd is too strong-minded, and has too keen a sense of his own interests, to suffer any fair face of them all to make a fool of him. His last wife, the daughter of the Shah of Persia, he married, of course, purely from policy, though it is well known that he has no issue by any of the rest.’

“‘However,’ said Catherton, ‘he is likely to make short work with Zuma, if she should be caught in _flagrante delicto_, as the lawyers say; the sack, or the bowstring, or the scimetar, I suppose. But, do you your part in bringing her off, and I’ll hide her from the eunuch, even if his eyes were sharp as the wise old Greek’s, when he found out Achilles beneath his petticoats.’

“I was not surprised at language like this; for I had already discovered that Catherton had been educated above his present condition; it was rather something in his manner that struck me, quiet as it was, as if under an air of confidence—which the chief’s business naturally created between us—he wished to get at something uppermost in his mind, without my suspecting aught.

“He said little more worthy of repetition, and after a while, I turned in, leaving him still smoking on the poop.

“The next morning he went on shore, as usual, after giving me orders on what he wished to have done in the ship. At daylight we commenced breaking out a portion of the cargo, to get at a leak—the ship having touched on a reef on the late cruise. The carpenter was lucky enough to find this, and after stopping it, the cooper and his mates were driving some of the old casks, when a difficulty occurred between a boat-steerer and some of the people. In putting an end to this, I found the fellows were determined to see the sort of man they had to deal with, some of them using mutinous expressions, and finally making a rush for the poop to rescue a rascally Portuguese, whom the mates had placed in irons. Driven for’ard of the mainmast, three or four of the worst of the scoundrels attempted to turn a gun inboard, when the second mate and I, well seconded by the rest, and the five harpooners, dashed in among them with the capstan bars, and after cracking a few crowns in true merchantman’s style, drove the rest _pell-mell_ down the scuttle. We then secured a few more of the ringleaders, and turned all hands to again, not a man daring to refuse work in a full ship, which, as the second mate remarked, showed that they had some dim glimmering of their own interests, after all. The English frigate went to sea with the first of the land-wind, and we began to weigh as soon as I saw that her anchor was a-peak. According to orders, I warped close to the mouth of the passage, anchoring, with the stream, a little astern of the Englishman’s old berth, and carrying a hawser to the rocks. This brought us ahead of the grab and the Arab corvette, and so near to the entrance as to prevent any craft which might come in from taking a berth so as to crowd us should we wish to tow out suddenly; nevertheless, we were still lying within the shadow of either shore, with an eye to the secret business which the captain had on hand.

“After we were all snug, I examined our stock of water, and found enough to last us to the Cape of Good Hope, or to St. Helena, as Catherton had said something of touching there. There was a strong prejudice in the ship against using the water from the wells of Muscat, and, accordingly, the captain had resolved, if the quantity was sufficient to reach a half-way port, to go to sea with the stock on hand.

“After dinner, while smoking our sheroots on the poop, the second mate, for the first time, spoke in very decided terms of the detention of the ship, dropping at the same time certain mysterious hints, which I determined that he should at once unravel.

“‘But, Mr. Parker,’ said I, accordingly, in answer to one of those dubious remarks, ‘Captain Catherton keeps matters pretty close, and to my notion, he is not exactly the man to answer a straight-forward question, even if you had made up your mind to ask it.’

“‘You may swear to that, sir,’ answered he, coming near the point at once—‘that is, to his having cause to keep things close. To tell the plain truth, sir, I’ve had my doubts of him, more or less, the whole v’y’ge; especially,’ continued he, sinking his voice, ‘since we lost the mate in the way we did—and since his wife’s spirit has haunted the ship.’

“I scarce knew what to think of this, as the man spoke quite seriously, glancing warily round the poop, and dropping his voice to a whisper, which had something of genuine awe in its cadence.

“‘Come, come, Mr. Parker,’ said I, ‘no ghosts, if you please. We will leave them to the old carpenter and his crony. I should like to hear, though, how you lost that boat’s crew.’

“‘Well, sir,’ he replied, doggedly, ‘as you please—but as for the spirit—’

“‘Pooh, pooh, man!—never mind that!—tell me how you came to lose the boat. We will have the spirit after supper, if you insist on it.’

“‘Why,’ said he, with a sort of sigh, dropping the ghost with evident reluctance, ‘I had to cut my line in that same squall, for it was in running down to pick up my boat that the ship lost sight of the mate.

“‘You see, sir,’ continued he, after a pause, during which he looked me full in the face in a half shrewd, half wistful way, as I thought, ‘it is best to begin at the right end of a tangled yarn, if you want to unravel it. Some of the boat’s crew-watch heard a splash under the counter one moonlight night in the Gulf, and when the rest opened their eyes and went aft, the poop was empty, and the lady not to be found in the ship. One fellow saw her standing by the head of the after-cabin stairs, when he went aft to strike the bell a moment before—another heard the splash—but when the boats were dropped, nothing was to be seen on the long, dazzling swell of the sea but the back-fin of a large blue shark, veering slowly round between the boats and the ship, as if he had missed his prey—except it were a gull asleep, with its head under its wing—or the fresh branches of a tree, drifting toward the mouth of the Gulf, on the current of the dry monsoon. As she was not to be found in the ship, it was almost certain that she had been leaning over the counter, watching the shark, perhaps, and losing her balance, had perished before she had time to utter a single cry—at least so the captain professed to think. However, it was the next day but one after that, just as the lookouts were going aloft at daybreak, we raised a large shoal of half-grown whales, crossing the ship’s wake, about two miles off, between Gigot and the low island of Ippoo. It was a likely place to meet with whales coming down the Ippoo passage at this season, and as soon as the captain got a look at the spouts from aloft, we wore round at once. The sea was too rough to make them out from deck before they peaked flukes[5]; and as the ship was under single-reefed topsails at the time, he must have noticed the fresh squall rising over the land before he sent away the boats. To be sure, two forty-barrel bulls would have filled us up. And after the accident to the lady, every soul in the ship, as you may suppose, was anxious to see the tryworks hove in the sea, and sail made for home. Be that as it may, when the word was given to back the main-yard, instead of the captain sliding down a backstay, in his hurry to be first, Mr. Jinney, the mate, came slowly down the rigging, and kicking off his shoes, without a word, got into his boat. He steered to windward about a mile, allowing for the Tartar’s drift, and then peaked his oars, paddling from time to time, to keep his place, head to sea—the wind fresh’ning all the while, and the clouds rolling together over the land, while the swells got up so fast between the high bluff of Gentoo on the larboard hand, and Divers’ Bank on the other, that we could only see the mate and his harpooner, standing up on the lookout, when the boat rose on the top of a sea. I was looking every minute for the order to hoist the recall signal—as we use no ‘waifs’ in this ship—when the infernal whales rose close to the boat, and almost as soon as we knew they were up, the male was fast. The shoal ‘squandered’[6]—some running toward Gentoo, and some coming down toward the ship. I was so eager to head off these last, when the captain sung out to me from the crosstrees to lower away, that I forgot all about the weather, thinking only of the fish, as you may easily understand, if you have any notion of the heat into which things of this sort put a whaleman. However, it was not until I had my whale spouting his last to leeward of the ship, that the squall came down on us sharp as a knife—cutting off the heads of the seas before it, and nearly swamping the boat, as we labored to keep her close under the whale’s lee. After he turned up we kept head to sea, until the ship came driving down in the thick of it, with her three topsail-yards on the caps, and luffing up to the gust, brought us close under her lee, so that we managed to hook on and scramble inboard, just as the rain came down in a solid sheet.’

“‘You saw no more of the mate, then?’ I asked, as he stopped short, jerking the stump of his sheroot into the scum which floated round the rudder, and staring at the birds which darted after it, and then at the Arab cruiser, in an earnest, yet vacant way, which showed that his mind, being full of his tale, or something at the bottom of it, took no more note of the craft, at the moment, than if she had been up the Ganges.

“‘No, sir,’ he answered slowly, ‘for it was thick and squally for a day or two afterward, and we had nearly lost the ship the same day, on a coral-reef. There was a grab-brig in sight to windward at the time, and we had hopes that she might have picked up the mate’s boat, only that Captain Catherton swore that he saw the whale run it under before the squall shut them in; which, as the third mate, who was aloft at the time, afterwards said, showed that his glass must have had devilish sharp eyes.’

“‘Well,’ said I, as he stopped short again, with a world of meaning in his sharp face, ‘I commanded that grab, and I must say your ship was handled well to have steered clear that time. We saw no more of you after the squall struck us, and really it seems to me that Captain Catherton did the best he could under the circumstances; since if he had kept his luff, instead of bearing away before it, it’s more than probable he would have lost two boats’ crews, in place of one.’

“‘Very true,’ said he, in a negative sort of a way; ‘but then, I doubt the truth of the captain’s report that the whale took the boat under. The third mate was on the topgallant-crosstrees, with his glass fixed on the boat, when they put their helm up in the ship, and he says that the fish never sounded at all. No man in his senses would have sent away a boat in such weather; and it was the very first time on the v’y’ge that the starboard quarter-boat—the captain’s own—hung at the cranes, and the main-yard aback for a shoal of whales within half a mile of the ship.’

“‘He was fond of the sport, then?’ said I.

“‘Ay,’ he answered, ‘he is famous for making short v’y’ges, and a bolder whaleman never went over a ship’s side—though he wasn’t bred to the work, either. He never let the chance slip before of having the first dash at a shoal, setting great store on a trick of his own, of pitchpoling a lance, that was very certain. He has killed two whales to the mate’s one, for the v’y’ge—though his boat was oftener under the carpenter’s hands—as he had a slap-dash way of laying on to a whale, which suited no other harpooner in the ship, but the wild islander who steers him.’

“‘He believed in the South-Sea-slogan,’ said I, ‘a dead whale, or a stove boat.’

“‘Just so,’ he replied, apparently beguiled of deeper thoughts, for an instant, by a natural interest in his profession; ‘and his boat’s crew were all pretty much of the same creed. Two of the fellows we had in irons below belong to it; and more troublesome rascals are not to be found in the ship. However, the difference between the captain and the mate in their boats, was this: the one was too headstrong, the other too cautious. Once within dart of a shoal, the captain would have three or four fish spouting blood, before the mate could clear away his lance; though Jinney was always more sure to get on to a single whale—an old schoolmaster, for instance—if you only gave him time; and he rarely had his boat struck. However,’ continued he, recurring to the point which, I could see, troubled him most, ‘I never dreamed that Jinney, cunning as he was, would have died in the strange way he did.’

“‘Why, Mr. Parker,’ said I, glad to find him falling back to his starting-point, ‘I have heard nothing, so far, to justify your suspicions of the captain. The ghost is out of the question, and as Catherton got along very well with his mate for two successive voyages as you say, I cannot see his motive for wishing Jinney out of the ship in the damnable way you point at.’

“‘Ay,’ said he solemnly, ‘but there was a motive—and a black one. Nothing will ever convince me to the contrary, but that the poor lady had foul play between the three of them—I mean her husband, the mate, and the mulatto steward.’

“‘The devil!’ I broke out, staring him full in the face, with a confused remembrance of some strange thoughts of my own in my mind. ‘What on earth put that horrid notion in your head?’

“The lines deepened on the second mate’s shrewd face, and a doubtful look wrinkled his narrow brows, as his eyes watched mine, as if to fathom how far he might trust me in such a matter. It would not do, however, and I saw that he felt compelled to speak, at all risks, like a frank fellow, as he was, who had strong doubts of dark deeds done in the craft—he could not tell exactly how—and was taking the first good chance that turned up, of easing his mind. There was a look of honest trouble about his twinkling blue eyes, and beardless swarthy cheek, which, combined with his Yankee shrewdness—setting aside the stuff about the ghost—made me repeat the question in a sharper tone, as my mind again reverted to something I had heard before.

“‘The truth is, sir,’ said he, ‘I was convinced from the first, that Mrs. Catherton came on board against her will. Something seemed wrong between them from the start; for I remember, just after she was getting over her sea-sickness, I began to observe the traces of tears on her face, as she often came hurriedly up on the poop, when he was in the after cabin. It was even a matter of talk for’ard, before the blacksmith’s forge was off deck,[7] that he treated her ill; and as this belief gradually worked aft, from _that_ end of the ship, before we had harpooned a single whale, you may swear that it was true. I heard him, myself, from the sail-room, one morning when he made sure I was asleep in the house on deck, twitting her with her want of faith toward him, and telling her how smoothly she had carried it on for years, while he was at sea—she praying and moaning all the time, and calling on God to witness her innocence; while the very sound of her voice—to say nothing of her tears and her prayers—was enough to move the heart of a Turk to believe her. She could not abide the sight of the mate; and the worst of it was, he seemed to know well enough in his heart what it was for—in short, sir, I had sailed with Jinney before, and had ought to know him. As sure as every man’s conscience is an inward comforter or a scourge of scorpions in this life, according as he listens to its voice or not, so sure that man hated himself as he went about the decks. It was noticed by all hands that he never spoke to her, nor she to him, although she used to sit, for hours at a time, on the poop, with a book on her knees, watching, as we drove along, something you could not see in the wake of the ship, or it might be a gull, hovering over the track of foam; or a Mother Carey’s chicken walking the sprays. All this time we were taking whales, and as the captain showed nothing of the tyrant in his usage of the crew, and the Tartar was a better found ship than I ever had the luck to have been in before, the people had nothing to grumble about, except the matters aft, which, to be sure, was no concern of theirs. Either Captain Catherton, or Jinney, or the mulatto, were always watching the poor lady on the sly, so that it must have been when the boats were off, and the steward at the braces with the shipkeepers, that she managed to stow away the letter that I found in my pea-jacket pocket nearly a week after she disappeared. It was addressed to some friend of hers on shore, and she must have watched until she discovered where the jacket hung, and risked the chances; for the letter was wrapped up in the blank leaf of a book, with a few words in pencil-mark on the margin, begging me to deliver it to the address, if ever I had an opportunity to do so. She was lost a week before I found the letter, and though it looks something like it,’ continued he, while his blue eyes glistened, ‘I’ll never believe that she drowned herself, as she never complained aloud; but just grew thinner and thinner, day by day, until it was plain to the dullest head in the ship, that she was pining to death. It’s my settled belief that she had other reasons for thinking her end was near, and that the spirit that haunts the ship is hers. But be that as it may,’ said he solemnly, ‘if Jim Parker ever lives to see the States again, he will travel to the ends of the earth to deliver the letter. Now, if there’s trouble ahead, Mister Miller, thank God, I’m ready to meet it with a clear conscience.’

“‘Mr. Parker,’ I said, still believing the story to be an exaggeration, in spite of the horrible twist he had given it; ‘your counsel is safe with me; but if you’ll take my advice, you’ll say nothing more of the captain’s wife, or the mate, until the voyage is up. If there has been foul play, depend upon it, it will come out.’

“‘Just so,’ said he, ‘and if you had not been the kind of man I take you for, I should not have broached a word to you, seeing that you are a stranger to me, and seem to have met with Captain Catherton before.’

“‘The truth is,’ I answered, ‘I have been haunted with such a notion, ever since I boarded the ship in the offing; but as I have repeatedly racked my memory in vain to account for the impression, I begin to think that we must have met in a dream, or that my mind has been misled by a fancied resemblance to some one else, whom I have forgotten. However,’ said I, by way of a finale, ‘if he has murdered his wife and the boat’s crew in the way in which you suspect, depend upon it, he is as certain to swing in the wind, as a ship to her anchor, in a tide-way. In the meantime, it is best to say as little about the matter as possible—and you may as well turn the people too, and have the head-sails unbent.’

“‘Very good, sir,’ answered Parker, and down the poop-stairs he went, while I dove into the sail-room.

“While the crew were sending up new sails in place of the old top-sails and courses—worn as thin as sere leaves, blackened with the sooty smoke of the try-works, and marked in fifty places, from the yard-arms down, with gurry—the captain came off, with the old Parsee in company. I, immediately, made my report to him of the difficulty which had occurred in the morning, which he seemed disposed to treat lightly, informing me in turn, that Halil Ben Hamet had gone ashore before daylight, and had arranged every thing for the escape of Zuma on Saturday night.

“‘The blow is to be struck,’ he whispered, ‘at midnight, and on Sunday evening we weigh.’

“He then went below, and in a few minutes afterward, as I stood in the gangway, overlooking the preparations for sea, the two came up on the raised deck, for the sake of the current of air, which was felt or fancied under the awning of the poop. They were both in high spirits; the captain laughing and making the best use of his Arabic, with an occasional fragment of Persian, which he had picked up in his cruises; while the grave, ghostly Parsee—whose thin, bloodless face, and attenuated figure, seemed to set the boiling-point at defiance—sat under the awning, cosily ensconced in a bamboo arm-chair, his back at a luxurious angle, his slippered feet nestling in a sort of carved stool, which wheeled from beneath, and the bowl of his crooked pipe resting on the hot, white deck. He had exchanged his high, purple cap, embroidered with white flowers, for another of lighter make and smaller dimensions, the peak of which overhung and contrasted oddly with his orange cheek; and as the men swaying on the buntlines, squinted oft at his collarless white tunic, and calm, passionless face, with the scented smoke curling up in blue wreaths from the thin mustache, to the gurgle of his hookah, you’d’ve almost thought the fellows took the old Tartar’s poop for some odd corner of the eastern paradise.

“I was dreaming of some such thing myself, when I was suddenly startled by a half-smothered shriek from aft, coming, as it seemed to me, from the cabin under the raised deck. The mulatto steward, who happened to be passing along to the galley, dropped his basket of dishes with a crash, while Catherton himself, grew pale as death, sitting still on the poop, as it appeared, without the power to move a limb. The steward, however, without waiting to count the fragments of his dinner-plates, ran precipitately down the cabin stairs, while the second mate, who was standing near the break of the deck, speaking to the men on the mizzen-topsail-yard, slued half-round, turning as white as the canvas. Catching my eye, he stood fast again, continuing his orders; though both he and the men aloft, who heard the cry distinctly enough, were sufficiently startled to show what they thought of it. One great, clumsy fellow, slipping off the foot-ropes in his fright, when, doubtless he would have made a ghost of _himself_, had not a boat-steerer caught him by the breast of his duck-frock, and jerked him up on the yard again. For my part, seeing the superstitious fears of the rest, and noticing the change on the captain’s face, a strong contrast to his look a moment before, when he was carrying it off so pleasantly, I did not know what to make of it, thinking one instant of Catherton’s deceased wife, and the next of the Circassian Zuma, who, it flashed upon me, might have been brought on board without my knowledge. In a few moments, however, the steward came up on the poop with the monkey clinging to him, and told the captain, that one of the mutinous rascals whom we had confined below, had worked off his irons, and breaking open a small slide between the steerage and the store-room, had frightened master Jocko into hystericks. I caught the second mate’s eye seeking mine again at this; and Catherton called out from where he sat, to release the men, and turn them to with the rest.

“This was done, and nothing more said of the occurrence at the time, for a breeze suddenly sprung up, bringing in another of the sultan’s cruisers, which had been in sight in the offing all day, with a fleet of dows in convoy. She was a heavy frigate, with an English name, which I have forgotten. She came to anchor on the flood, abreast of the palace at the bottom of the cove, while the great, clumsy dows, moored in the passage astern of the grab-brig.

“The Parsee merchant went on shore just after dark; and being engaged on deck until late in the evening, I had no particular conversation with the captain that night. Awaking from an uneasy sleep about midnight, I went on deck.

“The harbor was still as death. The hot breath of the land-wind had failed. Not a cloud was to be seen on the sky, where the moon and the stars shone with resplendent beauty. The heat was excessive, the least exertion causing the perspiration to stream from the pores. All at once, as I leaned over the quarter, listening to a stir which sprung up on board of my old brig, which had been dismantled and turned into a floating hospital, it struck me that I heard a low murmur of voices, proceeding from the galley of the Tartar. My curiosity being sharpened by the shriek, which had so confused Captain Catherton and the steward, and set Parker and I off on opposite tacks—he thinking of a ghost, and I of the Circassian—I walked slowly for’ard on the larboard side of the deck, anxious to know what was going on.

“I soon discovered that the two steerage cronies, the carpenter and the cooper, with the sable master of the coppers himself, were engaged in a solemn conclave. The two whites were great friends; though no two men could appear more unlike in person and character. The carpenter, a Kennebunk man, was short and thickset, as slow and heavy in his motions as an elephant, with a broad, solemn face, as beardless and bare of expression as a plain of sand, with the nose like a ruined obelisk, rising out of it; while the hooper of staves, as straight and thin as a lath, with sharp features, restless, ferrety eyes, and a nose like a cockatoo’s upper mandible, was the very impersonification of an old blue presbyter, on a cruise. These two fellows were the chief manufacturers of the legends set afloat in the ship; nothing escaping the cooper’s eyes and ears, which was deemed worthy of being poured into the carpenter’s brain, from whence, by the slow process of infiltration, it was given in its strength, drop by drop, as it were, to the crew. This I had learned from the second mate; and as the slide of the galley door was partly open on the side facing Muscat Island, as if to let out the smoke of their pipes, and of some mess the cook was coddling in his stew-pan, I could not resist the temptation of turning eaves-dropper for once, and accordingly, sat quietly down on the spars to listen.

“The man of chips was speaking, with the slow gravity of an oracle, and as his dull, dogged voice met my ear, I could not but think it fortunate that I chanced to light upon the party at the very moment I did.

“‘You think now, my lads,’ said he, ‘that you have made a prime v’y’ge, with forty-five hundred b’rr’ls sparm ile in the ship, and the tryworks down—you, Bungs, with a good _lay_[8] and no finger in the slop-chist—and the doctor, with his ten b’rr’ls of slush extra, besides his perquisites for washing the mate’s clothes for twenty odd months—wait till the anchor’s down in Bedford Bay, before you crow, my lads. For my part, unless some lucky chance, as you knows nothin’ of now, turns up, I no more looks to see home in this ship than I looks for to see the new mate to turn missionary, or the skipper to kneel down to the sun with the old Parshee—and eyther aire a long way from my thoughts, I kin tell you. Isn’t the ship haunted in the cabins; and ar’n’t there two Jonases, at least, on board—and another that I knows of—not to speak of him that’s gone to his reckonin’, with murder on his soul, as sartin as we three be settin’ here, as helpless as so many gonies with fish-hooks in their beaks.’

“‘What kin a man do, Chips?’ answered the cooper, apparently much moved with this pleasant prospect of his crony’s. ‘If we stir tack or sheet, in the way you seem to pint, it’s mutiny—and we all know what that leads to. If we makes a complaint to this here bashaw, or sultan, or whatsoever he calls hisself, ten staves to a whitlin’, that the skipper, or the old yaller nabob with the Teneriffe-cap—as they say kin do a great deal here in his way—turns it all into gammon. If you, old head, can see through this traverse, why don’t you say so at once—all among friends—instead of bullragin’ a feller about a matter as he kin no more work out of than a suckin’ whale kin stem a strong current?’

“Here I could hear him whiffing his pipe in high dudgeon, while the other, lowering his voice to a true sea-croak, answered him all the cooler; feeling his way, as I thought, to some plan of his own, which I was doubly anxious to get at, as both men, from their stations in the ship, had considerable influence with the crew.

“‘Thar be some things so dark, d’ye mind,’ said the oracle, ‘that no man kin see through ’em till the Lord’s own time—and some as no man—not even them as is concarned the deepest—kin give a reason for, no more than you kin tell me why a whale always dies with his head toward the sun. As I takes it, this matter about the mate and the skipper’s wife be of this sort.

“‘Hows’iver, this much be sartin—eyther we must git rid o’ the two Jonases, which is left, or the old Tartar are a doomed craft—ship and cargo. Now, for the steward—t’other one once out of the way—his hash is soon settled. I’d think no more of fetchin’ him a clip with my adze than of strikin’ a shirk with a head-spade. I mistrusted the villain iver since I fust sot eyes on the yaller frontispiece of ’im, with his two gray toplights shinin’ like a cat’s in the dark. He’s as deep in as t’other, and without his reason, it may be—hows’iver, to the pint—look ye, I says there’s only one man in the ship which can manhandle the bloody skipper, if he’s once put to the stumps.’

“‘Dat be Frank, de man-o’-war-man, I reckon,’ observed the cook.

“‘Or the Portagee,’ said the cooper, ‘or, if I’m to have a second guess, nearer the mark, the Kanacker, John Kapooley.’

“‘John Kapooley be d—d! and the rest, too,’ said old Kennebunk, scornfully. ‘I see it’s all lost time, as the students say at Cambridge, to teach a nigger a logic, or a bung-driver to sarcumvent any thing but hoops, heads and staves,’ he muttered, pushing the galley door farther open to empty his mouth, though, luckily, he did not see me, as I sat close abaft.

“‘I say, mates, there’s but one man which kin help us in this quandary—and that’s the new mate.’

“‘Why, Chips,’ said the cooper, ‘Lord love you, he’s hand and glove with him you knows of. ’Taint no manner of use of countin’ on him. He’d no more listen to our story than the old Turk at the paliss yonder. Besides, he’s used to sailin’ in other sort of crafts altogether, and sticks up his nose at us whalemen. He’s jist the same sort as the Jonas hisself, and they two is bound to stick togither this cruise—blow high, blow low—till wind and wave parts ’em.’

“‘Dat bin ’xactly my notion, too,’ said the black, ‘him too much an out-an-out sailor to go agin de captin.’

“‘Well, Bungs,’ answered the carpenter, ‘it’s many a long day since you’ve been to sea afore this cruise, and you speak accordin’ to your lights, I dare say. As to the doctor, why I can’t expect much better of him, seein’ that he’s not long out of the bonds o’ iniquity. (The cook was a runaway slave.) But, you see, I’ve talked the whole matter over with Browning, and Shadduck, and Frank, the man-o’-war’s-man, as stands for the whole o’ the starboard-watch—and says I to them, says I, what’s to come o’ it, my lads, s’posin’ we _does_ get the ship out o’ this blessed mess—a ghost aft, the cholery, the Turks and the tiffoons—and the bloody skipper runs away with her, craft and cargo, after all—and leaves us in some foreign port to go to grass with the greenhorns.’

“‘Why, where on airth could he run her to, I want to know?” said the cooper. “If her invoice were drugs and spices, now—or teas and silks, as in her old days, you might talk; but, as I take it, old head, it would be hard to find a market in any quarter of the world, barrin’ Europe and the States, for sich a cargo of sparm ile as we’ve under hatches.’

“‘So you think, my lad,’ retorted the carpenter, coolly, ‘’cause, old as you are, you ar’n’t up to half the deviltry afloat now-a-days.’

“‘Mayhap, now, you ha’n’t forgot that old nob, with the powdered head and the long cue, which were as thick as three in a berth, with the skipper, at Pernambuke?’

“‘Lord love you, no, Charley,’ answered his crony. ‘I remembers him well enough, by reason of the half-doubloon which he give the boat’s crew for pickin’ up three of his niggers, when wild Frank capsized their canoe in the harbor.’

“‘Well, then,’ continued Charley, ‘Don Josey Maria were his name, and the richest senor he were, they said, between the _Recife_ and the Rio.’

“‘Well, Chips, what then?’ asked the cooper.

“‘Why,’ answered the other, as coolly as before, ‘it’s my belief, growin’ in me, the whull v’y’ge, out of things as has turned up, one arter another, that ship and cargo were as good as sold to that aire old Portagee, afore we left the bloody Brazil coast behind.’

“‘Why, Charley, man,’ said the cooper, in a startled voice, ‘sure, you don’t mean to say that _now_, and you niver broached a thought of it afore.’

“‘Why, you see, my hearties, I were watchin’ all along to see how the cat jumped, seein’ that the skipper be nyther one to be skeared out of his course by a trifle, nor fathomed with a bit o’ dry yarn like a pump-well. I’m cock-sure of it now—but, hark’e in your ears—one word from me, when we gits up with the Cape, will block his game, deep as he is, and sot that aire manhandlin’, pirate-huntin’ Mister Miller—as he calls hisself—at t’other one’s throat like a Bingal tiger.

“‘Hows’iver, jist travel aft, Bungs, an’ strike the bell, whiles the doctor hands out the grog and the prog—I reckon by that aire screechin’, which aire none o’ the pleasantest, that the cholery’s set his claws on more o’ the heathen.’

“I kept my seat while the man went aft and struck the bell, the dismal echoes of the rocks drowning, for a moment, the faint cries to which the carpenter had alluded. Just as the man came back three or four heads were thrust in succession up the forecastle ladder, and as many of the larboard watch clustered round the opposite door of the galley. The fellow who had broken into the cabin was among them, and recognizing the others as old hands, I sat close for a few moments longer, although almost despairing now of learning the magical word by which old Charley was to set the captain and I by the ears.

“However, little of moment was said at first—the talk turning chiefly on the heat, and the cholera, and the prospect of getting to sea. One fellow was beginning a story about the fever on the African coast, when suddenly the carpenter asked the captain’s stroke-oars-man, about the ghost he had seen in the cabin.

“‘You see, mate,’ said Kennebunk, ‘the story they made up aft about the jackanapes be all in my eye; and if Frank, here, be of a mind, he can give us the rights of it.’

“‘That be blowed!’ said the man-of-war’s man in his wild way. ‘If it weren’t the monkey, with a table-cloth round him, as the steward said, it might have been a ghost, or the devil hisself, for all I care. Pass the pannakin this way—here’s sweethearts and wives, any how!—and no malice to the new mate, for the clout on the sconce with the capstan-bar.’

“‘Ay, ay,’ rejoined the carpenter, ‘you men-of-war’s men are all of one mark; you know one another, meet where you may, jist as a shoal o’ whales comes togither, arter a squanderin’.’

“‘B—t me!’ said Frank, ‘if ever I sot eyes on him afore he joined this ship, howsomever it may be with you, Chips.’

“Why,’ said Charley again, ‘may be I have, and may be I haven’t—I’m not goin’ for to say now. Only so much, d’ ye see—he’s the very man to take the old craft home, in case of any thing had happenin’ to the skipper. If we _do_ go to sea on Sunday, as is give out in the ship—what I want you lads of the larboard watch to do, is to keep a small helm till we once gits in the Cape latitudes. If the skipper lays her course for the Brazil coast, then—leave the rest to Charley Toppin.’

“‘Well,’ answered Frank, ‘we’re all of one mind, Chips; and if the soft-sawderin’, murderin’, buccaneerin’ thief tries his hand at that game, more than half t’other watch’ll jine with us. You see, lads, fair play’s a jewel, and I did promise the steward to say nothin’ about what I seed in the after-cabin to-day—hows’iver, as all hands is concarned—and you all heerd the screach—why, sink me, if it’s a man’s part to keep back the truth:—Either the ship’s haunted by the captain’s wife’s ghost—or else he’s got a live missus stowed away in the cabins.’

“There was a regular burst of top-gallant oaths and exclamations at this, until the carpenter took the word in a sort of triumph.

“‘I knowed it—I knowed it—I told you all the same thing—and who was most ready to laugh at the spurrit but Frank—and now you hear him.’

“‘I only tell what _I_ saw, shipmates,’ rejoined the man-of-war’s man; you may believe what _you_ like.’

“‘But let’s hear the rights of it, Frank,’ said the cooper.