“‘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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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