I stared round, hopelessly; and
then with two jumps, I was on the pigsty, and from there upon the top of
the deckhouse. I threw myself flat, and waited, breathlessly. All at once, it seemed to me that it was darker than it had been the
previous moment, and I raised my head, very cautiously. I saw that the
ship was enveloped in great billows of mist, and then, not six feet from
me, I made out someone lying, face downwards. It was Tammy. I felt safer
now that we were hidden by the mist, and I crawled to him. He gave a
quick gasp of terror when I touched him; but when he saw who it was, he
started to sob like a little kid. "Hush!" I said. "For God's sake be quiet!" But I need not have troubled;
for the shrieks of the men being killed, down on the decks all around
us, drowned every other sound. I knelt up, and glanced round and then aloft. Overhead, I could make out
dimly the spars and sails, and now as I looked, I saw that the
t'gallants and royals had been unloosed and were hanging in the
buntlines. Almost in the same moment, the terrible crying of the poor
beggars about the decks, ceased; and there succeeded an awful silence,
in which I could distinctly hear Tammy sobbing. I reached out, and shook
him. "Be quiet! Be quiet!" I whispered, intensely. "THEY'LL hear us!" At my touch and whisper, he struggled to become silent; and then,
overhead, I saw the six yards being swiftly mast-headed. Scarcely were
the sails set, when I heard the swish and flick of gaskets being cast
adrift on the lower yards, and realised that ghostly things were at work
there. For a moment or so there was silence, and I made my way cautiously to
the after end of the house, and peered over. Yet, because of the mist, I
could see nothing. Then, abruptly, from behind me, came a single wail of
sudden pain and terror from Tammy. It ended instantly in a sort of
choke. I stood up in the mist and ran back to where I had left the kid;
but he had gone. I stood dazed. I felt like shrieking out loud. Above me
I heard the flaps of the course being tumbled off the yards. Down upon
the decks, there were the noises of a multitude working in a weird,
inhuman silence. Then came the squeal and rattle of blocks and braces
aloft. They were squaring the yards. I remained standing. I watched the yards squared, and then I saw the
sails fill suddenly. An instant later, the deck of the house upon which
I stood, became canted forrard. The slope increased, so that I could
scarcely stand, and I grabbed at one of the wire-winches. I wondered, in
a stunned sort of way, what was happening. Almost directly afterwards,
from the deck on the port side of the house, there came a sudden, loud,
human scream; and immediately, from different parts of the decks, there
rose, afresh, some most horrible shouts of agony from odd men. This grew
into an intense screaming that shook my heart up; and there came again a
noise of desperate, brief fighting. Then a breath of cold wind seemed to
play in the mist, and I could see down the slope of the deck. I looked
below me, towards the bows. The jibboom was plunged right into the
water, and, as I stared, the bows disappeared into the sea. The deck of
the house became a wall to me, and I was swinging from the winch, which
was now above my head. I watched the ocean lap over the edge of the
fo'cas'le head, and rush down on to the maindeck, roaring into the empty
fo'cas'le. And still all around me came crying of the lost sailor-men. I
heard something strike the corner of the house above me, with a dull
thud, and then I saw Plummer plunge down into the flood beneath. I
remembered that he had been at the wheel. The next instant, the water
had leapt to my feet; there came a drear chorus of bubbling screams, a
roar of waters, and I was going swiftly down into the darkness. I let go
of the winch, and struck out madly, trying to hold my breath. There was
a loud singing in my ears. It grew louder. I opened my mouth. I felt I
was dying. And then, thank God! I was at the surface, breathing. For the
moment, I was blinded with the water, and my agony of breathlessness. Then, growing easier, I brushed the water from my eyes and so, not three
hundred yards away, I made out a large ship, floating almost motionless. At first, I could scarcely believe I saw aright. Then, as I realised
that indeed there was yet a chance of living, I started to swim towards
you. You know the rest----

"And you think--?" said the Captain, interrogatively, and stopped short. "No," replied Jessop. "I don't think. I _know_. None of us _think_. It's
a gospel fact. People _talk_ about queer things happening at sea; but
this isn't one of them. This is one of the _real_ things. You've all
seen queer things; perhaps more than I have. It depends. But they don't
go down in the log. These kinds of things never do. This one won't; at
least, not as it's really happened." He nodded his head, slowly, and went on, addressing the Captain more
particularly. "I'll bet," he said, deliberately, "that you'll enter it in the
log-book, something like this:

"'May l8th. Lat.--S. Long.--W. 2 p.m. Light winds from the South and
East. Sighted a full-rigged ship on the starboard bow. Overhauled her in
the first dog-watch. Signalled her; but received no response. During the
second dog-watch she steadily refused to communicate. About eight bells,
it was observed that she seemed to be settling by the head, and a minute
later she foundered suddenly, bows foremost, with all her crew. Put out
a boat and picked up one of the men, an A.B. by the name of Jessop. He
was quite unable to give any explanation of the catastrophe.' "And you two," he made a gesture at the First and Second Mates, "will
probably sign your names to it, and so will I, and perhaps one of your
A.B.s. Then when we get home they'll print a report of it in the
newspapers, and people will talk about the unseaworthy ships. Maybe some
of the experts will talk rot about rivets and defective plates and so
forth." He laughed, cynically. Then he went on. "And you know, when you come to think of it, there's no one except our
own selves will ever know how it happened--really. The shellbacks don't
count. They're only 'beastly, drunken brutes of _common sailors_'--poor
devils! No one would think of taking anything they said, as anything
more than a damned cuffer. Besides, the beggars only tell these things
when they're half-boozed. They wouldn't then (for fear of being laughed
at), only they're not responsible--"

He broke off, and looked round at us. The Skipper and the two Mates nodded their heads, in silent assent. APPENDIX


_The Silent Ship_


I'm the Third Mate of the _Sangier_, the vessel that picked up Jessop,
you know; and he's asked us to write a short note of what we saw from
our side, and sign it. The Old Man's set me on the job, as he says I can
put it better than he can. Well, it was in the first dog-watch that we came up with her, the
_Mortzestus_ I mean; but it was in the second dog-watch that it
happened.