Tales of Terror from the Black Ship (17 page)

‘Captain!’ he yelled, tugging at the rope to free the sail. ‘Captain Blackheart, sir!’

And just at that moment, the knot came free and the sail came loose and fell down, revealing that inside it, like the tobacco in a cigar, was half a dozen bodies and the decomposing pieces of more, swaddled in silken threads. He recognised the startled face of Murnau before turning away with a cry of horror and looking down at the deck.

What he saw almost stopped his heart, and he knew there and then what had been in the crate. The spider scampered across the deck. Its body alone was as big as a large dog, and its great, long, many-jointed and bristled legs added horrifically to its size and nightmarish appearance. It stopped to look up at him with its eight black eyes and drummed its two front legs on the deck as a horse might paw the earth. As if in response, the first of the eggs, which Lewis could now see tucked among the remains of the crew, split open.

*

Cathy let out an involuntary whimper at the end of Thackeray’s tale and it was only a supreme effort of will on my behalf that prevented a similar utterance emerging from my lips.

‘Cathy has a particular horror of spiders,’ I said.

Thackeray nodded, not with concern, as one might have expected, but with an expression that spoke more of satisfaction. It was as if he thought I had given him praise.

‘Do such creatures exist?’ said Cathy tremulously.

‘Of course not, Cath,’ I said, giving her a cuddle and looking to Thackeray for confirmation. But he simply snorted and took another drink.

‘I thought you had a stronger stomach, miss,’ said Thackeray. ‘Perhaps you are both a mite young for these stories, after all.’

‘Come now, sir,’ I said. ‘You are not so very much older than I am, I fancy.’

He leaned forward in the most intimidating manner.

‘How old do you think I am?’

I ventured that I thought him to be in the order of seventeen or eighteen and to my surprise he roared with laughter, slapping the table and making his drink and my sister jump three inches in the air.

I could not for the life of me see what was so amusing about my reply and was about to say so in the strongest terms I felt able to, when he looked at us both in turn and I could see tears in his eyes.

‘’Tis a curious thing,’ said Thackeray, ‘but as dangerous a beast as the sea surely is, it has a magnetic pull on certain souls and to such as those there is no resisting its power.’

‘Are you such a soul?’ said Cathy.

‘Aye,’ said Thackeray. ‘I yearned for brine as soon as I’d let go of my mother’s tit – begging your pardon, Miss Cathy.’

Cathy blushed – not at the coarseness of Mr Thackeray’s expression, but at his apology. No one had seen her worthy of an apology before.

‘But not everyone can take the sea-road with ease,’ said Thackeray. ‘Some men are born to it, like I was – my father being a mariner and his father too – but others are not. Some men are trapped ashore, a sailor in a landlubber’s body. There are few things sadder.’

Here he seemed to give me a special conspiratorial look that I resented, for how could this man know anything of my life? If I had forsaken a life at sea, I had done so willingly and he should mind his own business, for he knew nothing of mine. I was about to tell him so when Cathy spoke up.

‘You said you were sweet on a girl,’ she said. ‘Would you have given up the sailor’s life for her?’

‘In a heartbeat, Miss Cathy,’ he answered. ‘In a heartbeat. But it was not to be. My father stood between us and would never have seen us wed. He said she was not good enough for me – but she was the loveliest girl a man could ever wish for. My father was a rich man, an important man. He persuaded her father to forbid her seeing me. She would not go against him.

‘So she was betrothed to a man unworthy of her, a weak man. Still, I always believed she loved me best. though that is scant comfort. She had children with this creature. Children she might have had with me. Children who I would have loved and cherished.’

He broke off here and gave us such a piteous look.

‘I went to sea to forget her, but the sea is no place to forget. A man has so much time to remember. I never saw her again – and never will now, rest her soul. When news reached me of her death, I was already . . . already aboard my present ship.’

‘And what became of the husband and the children?’ asked Cathy.

‘He took his own life,’ said Thackeray bitterly. ‘He was a weak man, as I said.’

‘And the children?’ said Cathy.

‘This is a sad tale, miss,’ said Thackeray. ‘Let’s dwell on it no further.’

‘What was her name?’ asked Cathy. ‘Your sweetheart?’

‘Mr Thackeray doesn’t want to talk about it any more,’ I said sharply, for I did not believe a word of Thackeray’s story and felt that he was taking advantage of my sister’s sympathetic nature.

‘Catherine,’ said Thackeray, ignoring me. ‘Though everyone called her Cathy.’

‘Oh . . .’ began Cathy, all flustered.

‘Mr Thackeray is teasing you, Cathy,’ I said, making it clear by my expression that I thought that his behaviour towards my sister was unacceptable.

‘I assure you I am not,’ said Thackeray. ‘Cathy was her name, I promise you.’

‘I’m not sure what to make of your “promises”, Thackeray,’ I said. ‘If that is your name.’

‘Ethan, Ethan,’ he said, with his arms outstretched. ‘You have no fight with me. If I have said anything to offend you – or Miss Cathy here – then I apologise. I am no longer used to polite conversation. I have been too long away from . . .
ordinary
people.’

I raised an eyebrow and grimaced at the stress Thackeray placed on the word ‘ordinary’, but I let it pass without comment.

‘I’m sure you haven’t offended anyone,’ said Cathy, frowning at me. ‘And if anyone is being impolite it is my brother.’

I told Cathy in no uncertain terms that I thought she was being unfair and we quickly became embroiled in the kind of enthusiastic bickering well known to siblings all over the world. We had barely begun when we were interrupted by our guest banging on the table with the flat of his hand.

‘Ethan, Miss Cathy! I should not want to be the cause of any argument. No more cross words now.’

Cathy turned up her nose and arched an eyebrow haughtily and turned away from me. I countered this with a grunt and a shrug. Thackeray beamed, looking happier than he had the entire time he had been in our company. I rather resented the pleasure he seemed to be taking in Cathy and I falling out, however briefly.

‘Come, let’s leave that squall behind us and sail on. Who’s for a new story?’ he said, rubbing his hands together.

‘Yes, please,’ said Cathy, nose and eyebrow descending slowly. ‘What is it about?’

‘Well now, have you ever heard of scrimshaw?’

‘Of course,’ I said, eager to disabuse him of the notion he seemed to have gained that we were mere ignorant children. ‘It is the name given to the decorative carving in whale teeth and the like.’

‘Aye,’ said Thackeray, nodding and leaning forward. ‘So it is. Well, my next story concerns just such a piece of work.’

g

The Scrimshaw Imp

Edward Salter was walking back to his ship, waiting in the harbour at Alexandria. He had become separated from his fellow crewmen, who were all older than he, and while he had been fascinated by the exotic sights and sounds of the city, it was dark now and he had become fearful of being alone.

As Edward walked the long, poorly lit quay, a little nervous of the shadows, he saw ahead that someone was lying prone on the cobbles.

He had been brought up to believe that you should not walk by someone in distress but should help your fellow man if you’re able, and so he ran towards the figure. As he approached, Edward was shocked to see that the man looked as though he had been mauled by a lion or a bear, his clothes ripped, as was the flesh beneath, his bones clearly broken, his head crushed like a melon, his face horribly reshaped and ruined. Incredibly, though, the man was still alive.

‘Who did this?’ said Edward, bending over him.

The man groaned pitifully but made no reply. Edward could see someone walking away further along the quayside – another sailor it looked like. He almost called out, but, looking again at the man on the ground, thought twice and kept his peace.

The injured man was holding something in a ruined hand, and with all his remaining strength – for it was clear his life was ebbing away – he tried to hurl it towards the sea. It skittered over the cobbles and came to rest a yard or so from the edge.

He motioned for Edward to come closer, and this he did. The man grabbed his jacket and tried to speak, but though he moved his mouth no sound other than a strangulated choking emerged, and within seconds his grip loosened and he slumped lifeless to the ground.

Had he been at home in London Edward might have sought out a constable, or called for help. But he was not at home. He was a sailor in a foreign land with a mutilated corpse at his feet.

In that instant he decided that he could do no more to help the man. He had not seen the attacker and could not assist in his capture. Better by far that he return to his ship. But as he was walking away, curiosity got the better of him.

Edward was intrigued to discover what it was that the dead man had been so determined to throw into the water. He walked over and picked the object up, and almost as soon as he did so he heard voices. They were a long way off, but even so he did not want to be found there and, putting the thing in his pocket, he walked briskly away.

Once back on the
Buck
, Edward turned it over in his hand. It was a whale tooth – a big one, from the jaws of a great sperm whale no doubt – and etched into the surface was some kind of picture. Edward could not see what the picture showed because the light was too poor, but he could see that it was done with that odd mixture of crudeness and intensity that gave such pieces their strange charm. He certainly was glad it had not ended up in the harbour.

Edward went below deck. An old mariner called Morton, who had no interest in carousing ashore and little remaining curiosity for foreign ports, was sitting on a barrel, reading a book by lantern light. His eyes were failing and he was using a magnifying glass. Taking the scrimshaw tooth from his pocket, Edward asked Morton if he could borrow it.

Morton agreed and Edward held the tooth near a lantern and peered through the glass, marvelling again at the astonishing complexity and intricacy of the carving.

One side of the tooth carried a depiction of a quayside, along which was walking a sailor. Behind the figure was a tall building with ochre walls, a terracotta tiled roof and a tall castellated clock tower on which there was a weathervane in the shape of an arrow.

When he turned the tooth over, Edward found another carved scene, this time showing a three-masted sailing ship, much like the
Buck
, in a harbour much like Alexandria. Along the curve of the tooth, below the picture, were some words written in a neat, if a little awkward, sloping italic script. They read:

g

Behold and beware the Scrimshaw Imp.

Behold and beware thy self.

g

To his amazement, when he held the magnifying glass closer over the skillfully etched ship, he could see clearly that it was not merely
like
the
Buck
– the name on the side stated very clearly that it
was
the
Buck
.

Was the owner of the scrimshaw tooth trying to get to the
Buck
? Edward had never seen him before, he was sure of that. Perhaps he had sailed aboard the ship in the past. Perhaps he was the artist.

Edward turned the tooth over again, and had another look at the side showing the sailor on the quayside. He noticed something he had not seen before. On the right-hand side of the image, further along the quayside, was another, far less distinct figure.

The skill of the scrimshaw artist seemed to have deserted him in this depiction, for where the first figure was all detail, down to the buttons on his jacket and the neckerchief about his throat, the second figure seemed vague and blurred, as if caught in the act of movement. The maker had clearly not been satisfied by his work because he had tried to scratch the figure out. Edward suddenly had a vision of the injured man and shivered.