The William Hope Hodgson Megapack Read online

  Presently, the Captain and the Mates came to a decision. If there had been a mutiny, it had been brought to its conclusion, whatever that conclusion might be, and no interference from those aboard the Tarawak, at that period, would be likely to do good. They were utterly in the dark—in more ways than one—and, for all they knew, there might not even have been any mutiny. If there had been a mutiny, and the mutineers had won, then they had done their worst; whilst if the officers had won well and good. They had managed to do so without help. Of course, if the Tarawak had been a man-of-war with a large crew, capable of mastering any situation, it would have been a simple matter to send a powerful, armed boat’s crew to inquire; but as she was merely a merchant vessel, under-manned, as is the modern fashion, they must go warily. They would wait for the morning and signal. In a couple of hours it would be light. Then they would be guided by circumstances.

  The Mate walked to the break of the poop and sang out to the men:

  “Now then, my lads, you’d better turn in below and have a sleep; we may be wanting you by five bells.”

  There was a muttered chorus of, “Aye, aye, Sir,” and some of the men began to go forward to the fo’cas’le; but others of the watch below remained, their curiosity overmastering their desire for sleep.

  On the poop, the three officers leaned over the starboard rail, chatting in a desultory fashion, as they waited for the dawn. At some little distance hovered Duthie, who, as eldest ’prentice just out of his time, had been given the post of acting Third Mate.

  Presently, the sky to starboard began to lighten with the solemn coming of the dawn. The light grew and strengthened, and the eyes of those in the Tarawak scanned with growing intentness that portion of the horizon where showed the red and dwindling glow of the barque’s sidelight.

  Then, it was in that moment when all the world is full of the silence of the dawn, something passed over the quiet sea, coming out of the East—a very faint, long-drawn-out, screaming, piping noise. It might almost have been the cry of a little wind wandering out of the dawn across the sea—a ghostly, piping skirl, so attenuated and elusive was it; but there was in it a weird, almost threatening note that told the three on the poop it was no wind that made so dire and inhuman a sound.

  The noise ceased, dying out in an indefinite, mosquito-like shrilling, far and vague and minutely shrill. And so came the silence again.

  “I heard that last night, when they were shooting,” said the Second Mate, speaking very slowly and looking first at the Skipper and then at the Mate. “It was when you were below, calling the Captain,” he added.

  “Ssh!” said the Mate and held up a warning hand; but though they listened, there came no further sound; and so they fell to disjointed questionings, and guessed their answers, as puzzled men will. And ever and anon, they examined the barque through their glasses; but without discovering anything of note, save that, when the light grew stronger, they perceived that her jibboom had struck through the superstructure of the derelict, tearing a considerable gap therein.

  Presently, when the day had sufficiently advanced, the Mate sung out to the Third to take a couple of the ’prentices and pass up the signal flags and the code book. This was done, and a “hoist” made; but those in the barque took not the slightest heed; so that finally the Captain bade them make up the flags and return them to the locker.

  After that, he went down to Consult the glass, and when he reappeared, he and the Mates had a short discussion, after which orders were given to hoist out the starboard lifeboat. This, in the course of half an hour, they managed; and, after that, six of the men and two of the ’prentices were ordered into her.

  Then half a dozen rifles were passed down, with ammunition, and the same number of cutlasses. These were all apportioned among the men, much to the disgust of the two apprentices, who were aggrieved that they should be passed over; but their feelings altered when the Mate descended into the boat, and handed them each a loaded revolver, warning them, however, to play no “monkey tricks” with the weapons.

  Just as the boat was about to push off, Duthie, the eldest ’prentice, came scrambling down the side ladder and jumped for the after thwart. He landed and sat down, laying the rifle which he had brought in the stern; and, after that, the boat put off for the barque.

  There were now ten in the boat, and all well armed, so that the Mate had a certain feeling of comfort that he would be able to meet any situation that was likely to arise.

  * * * *

  After nearly an hour’s hard pulling, the heavy boat had been brought within some two hundred yards of the barque, and the Mate sung out to the men to lie on their oars for a minute. Then he stood up and shouted to the people on the barque; but though he repeated his cry of “Ship ahoy!” several times, there came no reply.

  He sat down and motioned to the men to give way again, and so brought the boat nearer the barque by another hundred yards. Here he hailed again; but still receiving no reply, he stooped for his binoculars and peered for awhile through them at the two vessels—the ancient derelict and the modern sailing-vessel.

  The latter had driven clean in over the weed, her stern being perhaps some two score yards from the edge of the bank. Her jibboom, as I have already mentioned, had pierced the green-blotched superstructure of the derelict, so that her cutwater had come very close to the grass-grown side of the hulk.

  That the derelict was indeed a very ancient vessel, it was now easy to see; for at this distance the Mate could distinguish which was hull and which superstructure. Her stern rose up to a height considerably above her bows and possessed galleries coming round the counter. In the window frames, some of the glass still remained; but others were securely shuttered, and some missing, frames and all, leaving dark holes in the stern. And everywhere grew the dank, green growth, giving to the beholder a queer sense of repulsion. Indeed, there was that about the whole of the ancient craft that repelled in a curious way—something elusive—a remoteness from humanity, that was vaguely abominable.

  The Mate put down his binoculars and drew his revolver, and, at the action, each one in the boat gave an instinctive glance to his own weapon. Then he sang out to them to give-way, and steered straight for the weed. The boat struck it, with something of a sog; and, after that, they advanced slowly, yard by yard, only with considerable labour.

  They reached the counter of the barque, and the Mate held out his hand for an oar. This, he leaned up against the side of the vessel, and a moment later was swarming quickly up it. He grasped the rail, and swung himself aboard; then, after a swift glance fore and aft, gripped the blade of the oar, to steady it, and bade the rest follow as quickly as possible, which they did, the last man bringing up the painter with him, and making it fast to a cleat.

  Then commenced a rapid search through the ship. In several places about the maindeck they found broken lamps, and aft on the poop, a shot-gun, three revolvers, and several capstan-bars lying about the poop-deck. But though they pried into every possible corner, lifting the hatches and examining the lazarette, not a human creature was to be found—the barque was absolutely deserted.

  After the first rapid search, the Mate called his men together; for there was an uncomfortable sense of danger in the air, and he felt that it would be better not to straggle. Then he led the way forward and went up on to the t’gallant fo’cas’le head. Here, finding the port sidelight still burning, he bent over the screen, lifted the lamp, opened it, and blew out the flame, then replaced the affair on its socket.

  After that, he climbed into the bows, and out along the jibboom, beckoning to the others to follow, which they did, no man saying a word, and all holding their weapons handily; for each felt the oppressiveness of the Incomprehensible about them.

  The Mate reached the hole in the great superstructure and passed inside, the rest following. Here they found themselves in what looked something like a great, gloomy barracks, the floor of which was the deck of the ancient craft. The superstructure, as seen from the insi
de, was a very wonderful piece of work, being beautifully shored and fixed; so that at one time it must have possessed immense strength; though now it was all rotted, and showed many a gape and rip. In one place, near the centre, or midships part, was a sort of platform, high up, which the Mate conjectured might have been used as a “look-out”; though the reason for the prodigious superstructure itself, he could not imagine.

  Having searched the decks of this craft, he was preparing to go below, when, suddenly, Duthie caught him by the sleeve, and, whispered to him, tensely, to listen. He did so, and heard the thing that had attracted the attention of the youth—it was a low, continuous shrill whining that was rising from out of the dark hull beneath their feet, and, abruptly, the Mate grew aware of an intensely disagreeable animal-like smell in the air. He had noticed it, in a subconscious fashion, when entering through the broken superstructure; but now, suddenly, he was aware of it.

  Then, as he stood there hesitating, the whining noise rose all at once into a piping, screaming squeal that filled all the space in which they were enclosed, with an awful, inhuman and threatening clamour. The Mate turned and shouted at the top of his voice to the rest to retreat to the barque, and he, himself, after a further quick nervous glance round, hurried towards the place where the end of the barque’s jibboom protruded in across the decks.

  He waited, with strained impatience, glancing ever behind him, until all were off the derelict, and then sprang swiftly on to the spar that was their bridge to the other vessel. Even as he did so, the squealing died away into a tiny shrilling, twittering sound, that made him glance back; for the suddenness of the quiet was as effective as though it had been a loud noise. What he saw seemed to him in that first instant so incredible and monstrous that he was almost too shaken to cry out. Then he raised his voice in a shout of warning to the men, and a frenzy of haste shook him in every fibre, as he scrambled back to the barque, shouting ever to the men to get into the boat. For in that backward glance, he had seen the whole decks of the derelict a-move with living things—giant rats, thousands and tens of thousands of them; and so in a flash had come to an understanding of the disappearance of the crew of the barque.

  He had reached the fo’cas’le head now and was running for the steps, and behind him, making all the long slanting length of the jibboom black, were the rats, racing after him. He made one leap to the main-deck, and ran. Behind, sounded a queer, multitudinous pattering noise, swiftly surging upon him. He reached the poop steps, and as he sprang up them, felt a savage bite in his left calf. He was on the poop deck now, and running with a stagger. A score of great rats leapt around him, and half a dozen hung grimly to his back, whilst the one that had gripped his calf, flogged madly from side to side as he raced on. He reached the rail, gripped it, and vaulted clean over and down into the weed.

  The rest were already in the boat, and strong hands and arms hove him aboard, whilst the others of the crew sweated in getting their little craft round from the ship. The rats still clung to the Mate; but a few blows with a cutlass eased him of his murderous burden. Above them, making the rails and half-round of the poop black and alive, raced thousands of rats.

  The boat was now about an oar’s length from the barque, and suddenly Duthie screamed out that they were coming. In the same instant, nearly a hundred of the largest rats launched themselves at the boat. Most fell short into the weed, but over a score reached the boat and sprang savagely at the men, and there was a minute’s hard slashing and smiting before the brutes were destroyed.

  Once more the men resumed their task of urging their way through the weed, and so in a minute or two had come to within some fathoms of the edge, working desperately. Then a fresh terror broke upon them. Those rats which had missed their leap were now all about the boat, leaping in from the weed, running up the oars, and scrambling in over the sides. As each one got aboard, straight for one of the crew it went, so that they were all bitten and be-bled in a score of places.

  There ensued a short but desperate fight, and then, when the last of the beasts had been hacked to death, the men lay once more to the task of heaving the boat clear of the weed.

  A minute passed, and they had come almost to the edge, when Duthie cried out, “Look!” and at that, all turned to stare at the barque and perceived the thing that had caused the ’prentice to cry out; for the rats were leaping down into the weed in black multitudes, making the great weed-fronds quiver, as they hurled themselves in the direction of the boat. In an incredibly short space of time, all the weed between the boat and the barque, was alive with the little monsters, coming at breakneck speed.

  The Mate let out a shout and, snatching an oar from one of the men, leapt into the stern of the boat, and commenced to thrash the weed with it, whilst the rest laboured infernally to pluck the boat forth into the open sea. Yet, despite their mad efforts, and the death-dealing blows of the Mate’s great fourteen-foot oar, the black, living mass were all about the boat, and scrambling aboard in scores, before she was free of the weed. As the boat shot into the clear water, the Mate gave out a great curse, and, dropping his oar, began to pluck the brutes from his body with his bare hands, casting them into the sea. Yet, fast almost as he freed himself, others sprang upon him, so that in another minute he was like to have been pulled down, for the boat was alive and swarming with the pests, but that some of the men got to work with their cutlasses, and literally slashed the brutes to pieces, sometimes killing several with a single blow. And thus, in a while, the boat was freed once more; though it was a sorely wounded and frightened lot of men that manned her.

  The Mate himself took an oar, as did all those who were able. And so they rowed slowly and painfully away from that hateful derelict, whose crew of monsters even then made the weed all of a-heave with hideous life.

  From the Tarawak came urgent signals for them to haste, by which the Mate knew that the storm, which the Captain had feared, must be coming down upon the ship; and so he spurred each one to greater endeavour, until at last they were under the shadow of their own vessel, with very thankful hearts, and bodies bleeding, tired and faint.

  Slowly and painfully, the boat’s crew scrambled up the side-ladder, and the boat was hoisted aboard; but they had no time then to tell their tale, for the storm was almost upon them.

  It came half an hour later, sweeping down in a cloud of white fury from the Eastward, and blotting out all vestiges of the mysterious derelict and the little barque which had proved her victim. And after that, for a weary day and night, they battled with the storm. When it passed, nothing was to be seen, either of the two vessels or of the weed which had studded the sea before the storm; for they had been blown many a score of leagues to the Westward of the spot, and so had no further chance—nor, I believe, inclination—to investigate further the mystery of that strange old derelict of a past time, and her habitants of rats.

  Yet, many a time, and in many fo’cas’les has this story been told; and many a conjecture has been passed as to how came that ancient craft abroad there in the ocean. Some have suggested—as indeed I have made bold to put forth as fact—that she must have drifted out of the lonesome Sargasso Sea. And, in truth, I cannot but think this the most reasonable supposition. Yet, of the rats that evidently dwelt in her, I have no reasonable explanation to offer. Whether they were true ship’s rats, or a species that is to be found in the weed-haunted plains and islets of the Sargasso Sea, I cannot say. It may be that they are the descendants of rats that lived in ships long centuries lost in the Weed Sea, and which have learned to live among the weed, forming new characteristics, and developing fresh powers and instincts. Yet, I cannot say; for I speak entirely without authority, and do but tell this story as it is told in the fo’cas’le of many an old-time sailing ship—that dark, brine-tainted place where the young men learn somewhat of the mysteries of the all mysterious sea.

  A TROPICAL HORROR

  We are a hundred and thirty days out from Melbourne, and for three weeks we have lain in this swelt
ering calm.

  It is midnight, and our watch on deck until four a.m. I go out and sit on the hatch. A minute later, Joky, our youngest ’prentice, joins me for a chatter. Many are the hours we have sat thus and talked in the night watches; though, to be sure, it is Joky who does the talking. I am content to smoke and listen, giving an occasional grunt at seasons to show that I am attentive.

  Joky has been silent for some time, his head bent in meditation. Suddenly he looks up, evidently with the intention of making some remark. As he does so, I see his face stiffen with a nameless horror. He crouches back, his eyes staring past me at some unseen fear. Then his mouth opens. He gives forth a strangulated cry and topples backward off the hatch, striking his head against the deck. Fearing I know not what, I turn to look.

  Great Heavens! Rising above the bulwarks, seen plainly in the bright moonlight, is a vast slobbering mouth a fathom across. From the huge dripping lips hang great tentacles. As I look, the Thing comes further over the rail. It is rising, rising, higher and higher. There are no eyes visible; only that fearful slobbering mouth set on the tremendous trunk-like neck; which, even as I watch, is curling inboard with the stealthy celerity of an enormous eel. Over it comes in vast heaving folds. Will it never end? The ship gives a slow, sullen roll to starboard as she feels the weight. Then the tail, a broad, flat-shaped mass, slips over the teak rail and falls with a loud slump on to the deck.

  For a few seconds, the hideous creature lies heaped in writhing, slimy coils. Then, with quick, darting movements, the monstrous head travels along the deck. Close by the mainmast stand the harness casks, and alongside of these a freshly opened cask of salt beef with the top loosely replaced. The smell of the meat seems to attract the monster, and I can hear it sniffing with a vast indrawing breath. Then those lips open, displaying four huge fangs; there is a quick forward motion of the head, a sudden crashing, crunching sound, and beef and barrel have disappeared. The noise brings one of the ordinary seamen out of the fo’cas’le. Coming into the night, he can see nothing for a moment. Then, as he gets further aft, he sees, and with horrified cries rushes forward. Too late! From the mouth of the Thing there flashes forth a long, broad blade of glistening white, set with fierce teeth. I avert my eyes, but cannot shut out the sickening “Glut! Glut!” that follows.