Man Overboard!Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion)
Science
Man Overboard!
Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion)
Ghost stories; Sailors -- Fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction
Well, they were ready to go now. It was all very quiet after the
day's excitement, and I knew they would like to walk down that
path alone now that they were man and wife at last. I bade them
good-night, although Jack made a show of pressing me to go with
them by the path as far as the cottage, instead of going to the
station by the beach road. It was all very quiet, and it seemed
to me a sensible way of getting married; and when Mamie kissed
her mother good-night I just looked the other way, and knocked my
ashes over the rail of the piazza. So they started down the
straight path to Jack's cottage, and I waited a minute with Mrs.
Brewster, looking after them, before taking my hat to go. They
walked side by side, a little shyly at first, and then I saw Jack
put his arm round her waist. As I looked he was on her left, and
I saw the outline of the two figures very distinctly against the
moonlight on the path; and the shadow on Mamie's right was broad
and black as ink, and it moved along, lengthening and shortening
with the unevenness of the ground beside the path.
I thanked Mrs. Brewster, and bade her good-night; and though she
was a hard New England woman her voice trembled a little as she
answered, but being a sensible person she went in and shut the
door behind her as I stepped out on the path. I looked after the
couple in the distance a last time, meaning to go down to the
road, so as not to overtake them; but when I had made a few steps
I stopped and looked again, for I knew I had seen something
queer, though I had only realised it afterwards. I looked again,
and it was plain enough now; and I stood stock-still, staring at
what I saw. Mamie was walking between two men. The second man was
just the same height as Jack, both being about a half a head
taller than she; Jack on her left in his black tail-coat and
round hat, and the other man on her right--well, he was a
sailor-man in wet oilskins. I could see the moonlight shining on
the water that ran down him, and on the little puddle that had
settled where the flap of his sou'wester was turned up behind:
and one of his wet, shiny arms was round Mamie's waist, just
above Jack's. I was fast to the spot where I stood, and for a
minute I thought I was crazy. We'd had nothing but some cider for
dinner, and tea in the evening, otherwise I'd have thought
something had got into my head, though I was never drunk in my
life. It was more like a bad dream after that.
I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help
following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would
happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just
melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't.
[Illustration: ONE OF HIS WET, SHINY ARMS WAS ROUND MAMIE'S WAIST.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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