"I didn't want to bring it," said Captain Gubson, regarding somewhat
unfavourably a grey parrot whose cage was hanging against the mainmast,
"but my old uncle was so set on it I had to. He said a sea-voyage would
set its 'elth up."
"It seems to be all right at present," said the mate, who was tenderly
sucking his forefinger; "best of spirits, I should say."
"It's playful," assented the skipper. "The old man thinks a rare lot of
it. I think I shall have a little bit in that quarter, so keep your eye
on the beggar."
"Scratch Poll!" said the parrot, giving its bill a preliminary strop on
its perch. "Scratch poor Polly!"
It bent its head against the bars, and waited patiently to play off what
it had always regarded as the most consummate practical joke in
existence. The first doubt it had ever had about it occurred when the
mate came forward and obligingly scratched it with the stem of his pipe.
It was a wholly unforeseen development, and the parrot, ruffling its
feathers, edged along its perch and brooded darkly at the other end of
it.
Opinion before the mast was also against the new arrival, the general
view being that the wild jealousy which raged in the bosom of the ship's
cat would sooner or later lead to mischief.
"Old Satan don't like it," said the cook, shaking his head. "The blessed
bird hadn't been aboard ten minutes before Satan was prowling around.
The blooming image waited till he was about a foot off the cage, and
then he did the perlite and asked him whether he'd like a glass o' beer.
_I_ never see a cat so took aback in all my life. Never."
"There'll be trouble between 'em," said old Sam, who was the cat's
special protector, "mark my words."
"I'd put my money on the parrot," said one of the men confidently. "It's
'ad a crool bit out of the mate's finger. Where 'ud the cat be agin that
beak?"
"Well, you'd lose your money," said Sam. "If you want to do the cat a
kindness, every time you see him near that cage cuff his 'ed."
The crew being much attached to the cat, which had been presented to
them when a kitten by the mate's wife, acted upon the advice with so
much zest that for the next two days the indignant animal was like to
have been killed with kindness. On the third day, however, the parrot's
cage being on the cabin table, the cat stole furtively down, and, at the
pressing request of the occupant itself, scratched its head for it.
The skipper was the first to discover the mischief, and he came on deck
and published the news in a voice which struck a chill to all hearts.
"Where's that black devil got to?" he yelled.
"Anything wrong, sir?" asked Sam anxiously.
"Come and look here," said the skipper. He led the way to the cabin,
where the mate and one of the crew were already standing, shaking their
heads over the parrot.
"What do you make of that?" demanded the skipper fiercely.
"Too much dry food, sir," said Sam, after due deliberation.
"Too much what?" bellowed the skipper.
"Too much dry food," repeated Sam firmly. "A parrot--a grey parrot--
wants plenty o' sop. If it don't get it, it moults."
"It's had too much CAT" said the skipper fiercely, "and you know it, and
overboard it goes."
"I don't believe it was the cat, sir," interposed the other man; "it's
too soft-hearted to do a thing like that."
"You can shut your jaw," said the skipper, reddening. "Who asked you to
come down here at all?"
"Nobody saw the cat do it," urged the mate.
The skipper said nothing, but, stooping down, picked up a tail feather
from the floor, and laid it on the table. He then went on deck, followed
by the others, and began calling, in seductive tones, for the cat. No
reply forth coming from the sagacious animal, which had gone into
hiding, he turned to Sam, and bade him call it.
"No, sir, I won't 'ave no 'and in it," said the old man. "Putting aside
my liking for the animal, _I'M_ not going to 'ave anything to do with
the killing of a black cat."
"Rubbish!" said the skipper.
"Very good, sir," said Sam, shrugging his shoulders, "you know best, o'
course. You're eddicated and I'm not, an' p'raps you can afford to make
a laugh o' such things. I knew one man who killed a black cat an' he
went mad. There's something very pecooliar about that cat o' ours."
"It knows more than we do," said one of the crew, shaking his head.
"That time you--I mean we--ran the smack down, that cat was expecting of
it 'ours before. It was like a wild thing."
"Look at the weather we've 'ad--look at the trips we've made since he's
been aboard," said the old man. "Tell me it's chance if you like, but I
KNOW better."
The skipper hesitated. He was a superstitious man even for a sailor, and
his weakness was so well known that he had become a sympathetic
receptacle for every ghost story which, by reason of its crudeness or
lack of corroboration, had been rejected by other experts. He was a
perfect reference library for omens, and his interpretations of dreams
had gained for him a widespread reputation.
"That's all nonsense," he said, pausing uneasily; "still, I only want to
be just. There's nothing vindictive about me, and I'll have no hand in
it myself. Joe, just tie a lump of coal to that cat and heave it
overboard."
"Not me," said the cook, following Sam's lead, and working up a shudder.
"Not for fifty pun in gold. I don't want to be haunted."
"The parrot's a little better now, sir," said one of the men, taking
advantage of his hesitation, "he's opened one eye."
"Well, I only want to be just," repeated the skipper. "I won't do
anything in a hurry, but, mark my words, if the parrot dies that cat
goes overboard."
Contrary to expectations, the bird was still alive when London was
reached, though the cook, who from his connection with the cabin had
suddenly reached a position of unusual importance, reported great loss
of strength and irritability of temper. It was still alive, but failing
fast on the day they were to put to sea again; and the fo'c'sle, in
preparation for the worst, stowed their pet away in the paint-locker,
and discussed the situation.
Their council was interrupted by the mysterious behaviour of the cook,
who, having gone out to lay in a stock of bread, suddenly broke in upon
them more in the manner of a member of a secret society than a humble
but useful unit of a ship's company.
"Where's the cap'n?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, as he took a seat on
the locker with the sack of bread between his knees.
"In the cabin," said Sam, regarding his antics with some disfavour.
"What's wrong, cookie?"
"What d' yer think I've got in here?" asked the cook, patting the bag.
The obvious reply to this question was, of course, bread; but as it was
known that the cook had departed specially to buy some, and that he
could hardly ask a question involving such a simple answer, nobody gave
it.
"It come to me all of a sudden," said the cook, in a thrilling whisper.
"I'd just bought the bread and left the shop, when I see a big black
cat, the very image of ours, sitting on a doorstep. I just stooped down
to stroke its 'ed, when it come to me."
"They will sometimes," said one of the seamen.
"I don't mean that," said the cook, with the contempt of genius. "I mean
the idea did. Ses I to myself, 'You might be old Satan's brother by the
look of you; an' if the cap'n wants to kill a cat, let it be you,' I
ses. And with that, before it could say Jack Robinson, I picked it up by
the scruff o' the neck and shoved it in the bag."
"What, all in along of our bread?" said the previous interrupter, in a
pained voice.
"Some of yer are 'ard ter please," said the cook, deeply offended.
"Don't mind him, cook," said the admiring Sam. "You're a masterpiece,
that's what you are."
"Of course, if any of you've got a better plan"--said the cook
generously.
"Don't talk rubbish, cook," said Sam; "fetch the two cats out and put
'em together."
"Don't mix 'em," said the cook warningly; "for you'll never know which
is which agin if you do."
He cautiously opened the top of the sack and produced his captive, and
Satan, having been relieved from his prison, the two animals were
carefully compared.
"They're as like as two lumps o' coal," said Sam slowly. "Lord, what a
joke on the old man. I must tell the mate o' this; he'll enjoy it."
"It'll be all right if the parrot don't die," said the dainty pessimist,
still harping on his pet theme. "All that bread spoilt, and two cats
aboard."
"Don't mind what he ses," said Sam; "you're a brick, that's what you
are. I'll just make a few holes in the lid o' the boy's chest, and pop
old Satan in. You don't mind, do you, Billy?"
"Of course he don't," said the other men indignantly.
Matters being thus agreeably arranged, Sam got a gimlet, and prepared
the chest for the reception of its tenant, who, convinced that he was
being put out of the way to make room for a rival, made a frantic fight
for freedom.
"Now get something 'eavy and put on the top of it," said Sam, having
convinced himself that the lock was broken; "and, Billy, put the noo cat
in the paint-locker till we start; it's home-sick."
The boy obeyed, and the understudy was kept in durance vile until they
were off Limehouse, when he came on deck and nearly ended his career
there and then by attempting to jump over the bulwark into the next
garden. For some time he paced the deck in a perturbed fashion, and
then, leaping on the stern, mewed plaintively as his native city receded
farther and farther from his view.
"What's the matter with old Satan?" said the mate, who had been let into
the secret. "He seems to have something on his mind."
"He'll have something round his neck presently," said the skipper
grimly.
The prophecy was fulfilled some three hours later, when he came up on
deck ruefully regarding the remains of a bird whose vocabulary had once
been the pride of its native town. He threw it overboard without a word,
and then, seizing the innocent cat, who had followed him under the
impression that it was about to lunch, produced half a brick attached to
a string, and tied it round his neck. The crew, who were enjoying the
joke immensely, raised a howl of protest.
"The Skylark'll never have another like it, sir," said Sam solemnly.
"That cat was the luck of the ship."
"I don't want any of your old woman's yarns," said the skipper brutally.
"If you want the cat, go and fetch it."
He stepped aft as he spoke, and sent the gentle stranger hurtling
through the air. There was a "plomp" as it reached the water, a bubble
or two came to the surface, and all was over.
"That's the last o' that," he said, turning away.
The old man shook his head. "You can't kill a black cat for nothing,"
said he, "mark my words!"
The skipper, who was in a temper at the time, thought little of them,
but they recurred to him vividly the next day. The wind had freshened
during the night, and rain was falling heavily. On deck the crew stood
about in oilskins, while below, the boy, in his new capacity of gaoler,
was ministering to the wants of an ungrateful prisoner, when the cook,
happening to glance that way, was horrified to see the animal emerge
from the fo'c'sle. It eluded easily the frantic clutch of the boy as he
sprang up the ladder after it, and walked leisurely along the deck in
the direction of the cabin. Just as the crew had given it up for lost it
encountered Sam, and the next moment, despite its cries, was caught up
and huddled away beneath his stiff clammy oilskins. At the noise the
skipper, who was talking to the mate, turned as though he had been shot,
and gazed wildly round him.
"Dick," said he, "can you hear a cat?"
"Cat!" said the mate, in accents of great astonishment.
"I thought I heard it," said the puzzled skipper.
"Fancy, sir," said Dick firmly, as a mewing, appalling in its wrath,
came from beneath Sam's coat.
"Did you hear it, Sam?" called the skipper, as the old man was moving
off.
"Hear what, sir?" inquired Sam respectfully, without turning round.
"Nothing," said the skipper, collecting himself. "Nothing. All right."
The old man, hardly able to believe in his good fortune, made his way
forward, and, seizing a favourable opportunity, handed his ungrateful
burden back to the boy.
"Fancy you heard a cat just now?" inquired the mate casually.
"Well, between you an' me, Dick," said the skipper, in a mysterious
voice, "I did, and it wasn't fancy neither. I heard that cat as plain as
if it was alive."
"Well, I've heard of such things," said the other, "but I don't believe
'em. What a lark if the old cat comes back climbing up over the side out
of the sea to-night, with the brick hanging round its neck."
The skipper stared at him for some time without speaking. "If that's
your idea of a lark," he said at length, in a voice which betrayed
traces of some emotion, "it ain't mine."
"Well, if you hear it again," said the mate cordially, "you might let me
know. I'm rather interested in such things."
The skipper, hearing no more of it that day, tried hard to persuade
himself that he was the victim of imagination, but, in spite of this, he
was pleased at night, as he stood at the wheel, to reflect on the sense
of companionship afforded by the look-out in the bows. On his part the
look-out was quite charmed with the unwonted affability of the skipper,
as he yelled out to him two or three times on matters only faintly
connected with the progress of the schooner.
The night, which had been dirty, cleared somewhat, and the bright
crescent of the moon appeared above a heavy bank of clouds, as the cat,
which had by dint of using its back as a lever at length got free from
that cursed chest, licked its shapely limbs, and came up on deck. After
its stifling prison, the air was simply delicious.
"Bob!" yelled the skipper suddenly.
"Ay, ay, sir!" said the look-out, in a startled voice.
"Did you mew?" inquired the skipper.
"Did I WOT, sir?" cried the astonished Bob.
"Mew," said the skipper sharply, "like a cat?"
"No, sir," said the offended seaman. "What 'ud I want to do that for?"
"I don't know what you want to for," said the skipper, looking round him
uneasily. "There's some more rain coming, Bob."
"Ay, ay, sir," said Bob.
"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?"
"I can see a case, sir," said Sam, speaking slowly and carefully," with
a bit of rusty iron band sticking out from it. That's what you're
mistaking for the cat, p'raps, sir."
"Can't you see anything, cook?" demanded the skipper.
"It may be fancy, sir," faltered the cook, lowering his eyes, "but it
does seem to me as though I can see a little misty sort o' thing there.
Ah, now it's gone."
"No, it ain't," said the skipper. "The ghost of Satan's sitting there.
The case seems to have fallen on its tail. It appears to be howling
something dreadful."
The men made a desperate effort to display the astonishment suitable to
such a marvel, whilst Satan, who was trying all he knew to get his tail
out, cursed freely. How long the superstitious captain of the Skylark
would have let him remain there will never be known, for just then the
mate came on deck and caught sight of it before he was quite aware of
the part he was expected to play.
"Why the devil don't you lift the thing off the poor brute," he yelled,
hurrying up towards the case.
"What, can YOU see it, Dick?" said the skipper impressively, laying his
hand on his arm.
"SEE it?" retorted the mate. "D'ye think I'm blind. Listen to the poor
brute. I should--Oh!"
He became conscious of the concentrated significant gaze of the crew.
Five pairs of eyes speaking as one, all saying "idiot" plainly, the
boy's eyes conveying an expression too great to be translated.
Turning, the skipper saw the bye-play, and a light slowly dawned upon
him. But he wanted more, and he wheeled suddenly to the cook for the
required illumination.
The cook said it was a lark. Then he corrected himself and said it
wasn't a lark, then he corrected himself again and became incoherent.
Meantime the skipper eyed him stonily, while the mate released the cat
and good-naturedly helped to straighten its tail.
It took fully five minutes of unwilling explanation before the skipper
could grasp the situation. He did not appear to fairly understand it
until he was shown the chest with the ventilated lid; then his
countenance cleared, and, taking the unhappy Billy by the collar, he
called sternly for a piece of rope.
By this statesmanlike handling of the subject a question of much
delicacy and difficulty was solved, discipline was preserved, and a
practical illustration of the perils of deceit afforded to a youngster
who was at an age best suited to receive such impressions. That he
should exhaust the resources of a youthful but powerful vocabulary upon
the crew in general, and Sam in particular, was only to be expected.
They bore him no malice for it, but, when he showed signs of going
beyond his years, held a hasty consultation, and then stopped his mouth
with sixpence-halfpenny and a broken jack-knife.
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