Of course we soon found out where the young fellows went to get the
drink, and landlord was terribly cut up that his tenant should have
turned out so badly, but his wife wouldn't hear of parting with the
brooch, so that he couldn't give the Captain notice to quit. But as
time went on, things grew from bad to worse, and at all hours of the
day you would see those young reprobates sleeping it off on the
village green. Nearly every afternoon a ghost-wagon used to jolt down
to the ship with a lading of rum, and though the older ghosts seemed
inclined to give the Captain's hospitality the go-by, the youngsters
were neither to hold nor to bind. So one afternoon when I was taking my nap I heard a knock at the
door, and there was parson looking very serious, like a man with a
job before him that he didn't altogether relish. "I'm going down to
talk to the Captain about all this drunkenness in the village, and I
want you to come with me," he said straight out. I can't say that I fancied the visit much, myself, and I tried to
hint to parson that as, after all, they were only a lot of ghosts it
didn't very much matter. "Dead or alive, I'm responsible for the good conduct," he said, "and
I'm going to do my duty and put a stop to this continued disorder. And you are coming with me John Simmons." So I went, parson being a
persuasive kind of man. We went down to the ship, and as we approached her I could see the
Captain tasting the air on deck. When he saw parson he took off his
hat very politely and I can tell you that I was relieved to find that
he had a proper respect for the cloth. Parson acknowledged his salute
and spoke out stoutly enough. "Sir, I should be glad to have a word
with you." "Come on board, sir; come on board," said the Captain, and I could
tell by his voice that he knew why we were there. Parson and I
climbed up an uneasy kind of ladder, and the Captain took us into the
great cabin at the back of the ship, where the bay-window was. It was
the most wonderful place you ever saw in your life, all full of gold
and silver plate, swords with jewelled scabbards, carved oak chairs,
and great chests that look as though they were bursting with guineas. Even parson was surprised, and he did not shake his head very hard
when the Captain took down some silver cups and poured us out a drink
of rum. I tasted mine, and I don't mind saying that it changed my
view of things entirely. There was nothing betwixt and between about
that rum, and I felt that it was ridiculous to blame the lads for
drinking too much of stuff like that. It seemed to fill my veins with
honey and fire. Parson put the case squarely to the Captain, but I didn't listen much
to what he said; I was busy sipping my drink and looking through the
window at the fishes swimming to and fro over landlord's turnips. Just then it seemed the most natural thing in the world that they
should be there, though afterwards, of course, I could see that that
proved it was a ghost-ship. But even then I thought it was queer when I saw a drowned sailor
float by in the thin air with his hair and beard all full of bubbles. It was the first time I had seen anything quite like that at
Fairfield. All the time I was regarding the wonders of the deep parson was
telling Captain Roberts how there was no peace or rest in the village
owing to the curse of drunkenness, and what a bad example the
youngsters were setting to the older ghosts. The Captain listened
very attentively, and only put in a word now and then about boys
being boys and young men sowing their wild oats. But when parson had
finished his speech he filled up our silver cups and said to parson,
with a flourish, "I should be sorry to cause trouble anywhere where I
have been made welcome, and you will be glad to hear that I put to
sea tomorrow night. And now you must drink me a prosperous voyage." So we all stood up and drank the toast with honour, and that noble
rum was like hot oil in my veins. After that Captain showed us some of the curiosities he had brought
back from foreign parts, and we were greatly amazed, though
afterwards I couldn't clearly remember what they were. And then I
found myself walking across the turnips with parson, and I was
telling him of the glories of the deep that I had seen through the
window of the ship. He turned on me severely. "If I were you, John
Simmons," he said, "I should go straight home to bed." He has a way
of putting things that wouldn't occur to an ordinary man, has parson,
and I did as he told me. Well, next day it came on to blow, and it blew harder and harder,
till about eight o'clock at night I heard a noise and looked out into
the garden. I dare say you won't believe me, it seems a bit tall even
to me, but the wind had lifted the thatch of my pigsty into the
widow's garden a second time. I thought I wouldn't wait to hear what
widow had to say about it, so I went across the green to the "Fox and
Grapes", and the wind was so strong that I danced along on tiptoe
like a girl at the fair. When I got to the inn landlord had to help
me shut the door; it seemed as though a dozen goats were pushing
against it to come in out of the storm. "It's a powerful tempest," he said, drawing the beer. "I hear there's
a chimney down at Dickory End." "It's a funny thing how these sailors know about the weather," I
answered. "When Captain said he was going tonight, I was thinking it
would take a capful of wind to carry the ship back to sea, but now
here's more than a capful." "Ah, yes," said landlord, "it's tonight he goes true enough, and,
mind you, though he treated me handsome over the rent, I'm not sure
it's a loss to the village. I don't hold with gentrice who fetch
their drink from London instead of helping local traders to get their
living." "But you haven't got any rum like his," I said, to draw him out. His neck grew red above his collar, and I was afraid I'd gone too
far; but after a while he got his breath with a grunt. "John Simmons," he said, "if you've come down here this windy night
to talk a lot of fool's talk, you've wasted a journey." Well, of course, then I had to smooth him down with praising his rum,
and Heaven forgive me for swearing it was better than Captain's. For
the like of that rum no living lips have tasted save mine and
parson's. But somehow or other I brought landlord round, and
presently we must have a glass of his best to prove its quality. "Beat that if you can!" he cried, and we both raised our glasses to
our mouths, only to stop half-way and look at each other in amaze. For the wind that had been howling outside like an outrageous dog had
all of a sudden turned as melodious as the carol-boys of a Christmas
Eve. "Surely that's not my Martha," whispered landlord; Martha being his
great-aunt that lived in the loft overhead. We went to the door, and the wind burst it open so that the handle
was driven clean into the plaster of the wall.