The Myths and Fables of To-Day

by Samuel Adams Drake

“The dim and shadowy armies of our unquiet dreams,
Their footsteps brush the dewy fern and print the shaded streams.”

As regards haunted ships, the following incident, taken down as literally as I could transcribe it at the time, from the lips of a seafaring friend, speaks for itself:—

“‘Twas some dozen year ago, may be less, may be more—beats all how time travels when you’ve turned the half-century post—I was aboard of the old Paul Pry—queer name, now, warn’t it? We was a lyin’ in Havana harbor, all snug, about a mile from shore. Well, the mate he was on watch. In port, you know, ships always keep slack watch. Our’n was light, nothin’ in her, hold all swep’ out clean that very day, ’cause we was to begin takin’ in sugar and molasses in the mornin’. All hands were off in the ship’s boat visitin’ another ship—all ’cept the steward. The old man, he was ashore.

“I’m slow, but you just hold your hosses. All to once’t the mate thought he heern somebody walkin’ back’ards and for’ards plumb down in the hold. He walked to the open hatch and called down, ‘Who’s there?’ No answer. He listened. No sound. Thinkin’ it might possibly have been the steward getting his firewood, the mate went for’ard to the steward’s room to see if it was so, and found him fast asleep in his bunk. That settled it. Nobody aboard but them two.

“The mate he said nothin’ to nobody, but got a lantern and slipped quietly down the ladder into the hold, determined to find out who was skylarkin’ there, for I tell you the mate he was a game one all the time, and don’t you b’leeve he warn’t!

“He hunted high and low, from the fore-peak to the run, but not a soul was to be seen anywhere; but just as soon as he stood still he would hear those myster’ous footsteps go trampin’ fore and aft, fore and aft, as plain as day, right by him, where he stood.

“By this time the mate had got pretty well worked up, I want you to know, so he just gin one kinder skeered look around him, and then hustled himself off up that ladder just a leetle mite faster than he came down, wonderin’ to himself what it all could mean, and thinkin’ all sorts of things to once’t.

“Then he went and woke up the steward, and both on ’em went and listened fust at one hatch, then at t’other, and sure enough that consarned tramp, tramp, tramp, was a-goin’ on agin just the same as before. Then they pulled on the hatches. But, Lor’ bless you, it warn’t no use. Them critters down below had the bulge on ’em every time.

“The mate he said nothin’ ’cept to the old man, who looked as black as a new-painted deadeye with the lanyards unrove when he heerd it; but somehow it leaked out among the crew before we sailed, and one or two ran away and laid low till the ship was clean out of the harbor.

“It was gen’lly b’leeved fore and aft that them there footsteps was a warnin’. Hows’ever, the thing quieted down some in a day or two, so nothin’ more was heerd of the walkin’ match down below; but on the third day out, I think it was, we was struck by one of them northers, and in spite of all we could do we was drove ashore on a reef off the Bermudys, where the Paul Pry brought up all standin’, and there she left her old bones. The wreckers they came and took off the crew, and fetched ’em all safe into Nassau. Now if that ship warn’t haunted, I miss my guess. You can’t most always tell about them things, I know; but ef it was skylarkin’, all I’ve got to say is, it was a purty neat job, and don’t you forget it.”