Part 8

The owner was indignant, and smartly retorted:

"I wish you to understand, pilot, that I will not have the British flag insulted in my presence. When you speak of that flag, sir, you must speak of it with reverence, and remember that it has never been lowered to an enemy."

The pilot, who had been a sailor and captain, was amazed at the owner's ignorance in not knowing that seamen were accustomed to speak of the flag in this way. Had he been a foreigner who dared to address him in a similar tone of ill-nature, he would have thrown him overboard. As it was, he merely remarked in an ironic accent that Mr Hobkirk "had a lot to learn yet." By the time the cobble got ashore, the fine clipper brig was nearly hull down.

Macgregor had prevailed upon the same crew to go with him again, and the owner's back was scarcely turned before he commenced to drink and ill-use the poor half-witted Ralph who was in his watch. There does not appear to have been any reason for this except that of alcoholic viciousness. The dark horror of secret drinking quickly developed into hideous proportions; it gripped him like a vice; his bleary eyes and wild fits of delirium foreshadowed inevitable collapse. He raved about things that were supposed to be whispered in his ears by unholy voices; he saw wild beasts of the most ferocious character, which were not there, and imagined them grinding their teeth in anxiety to devour him; he alternately yelled and whispered that rats, weasels and wild cats were crawling over his body and gnawing at his vitals. In the paroxysm of frenzy he lay down on the cabin floor and tried to bury his head from the sight of the demons that he imagined pursued him. He cried out in pitiful accents to be shielded from them, and in the effort lost complete capacity for coherent speech. The crew were thrown into a condition of chilly fear. A consultation was held, and it was decided to have him carefully watched and occasional doses of brandy administered. For three days a fine westerly breeze had raced over the dappled sea. It had varied in strength, and nearly three hundred miles had been covered when the wind died away to a calm which continued nearly twenty-four hours. Then an air sprang up from the east and gradually gained in strength to a whole sail breeze. The captain had shown alarming signs of sudden recovery during the early hours of the fourth day. The delirium tremens had apparently left him, and he became subdued and attractively rational. Munroe, who did not possess much intelligence, knowledge or ambition, expressed his satisfaction that the drunken beggar was about to resume control, as he was sick of being both skipper and mate. As a matter of fact, responsibility did not sit lightly on this frivolous officer, and it may be that he knew the measure of his capacity. Ralph heard all the mate had to say, and quietly remarked:

"They haven't left him yet. He's only at the cunning, dangerous stage."

"What do you mean, Ralph?" said Munroe (for in spite of his reputed semi-idiotcy Ralph was supposed to possess intuitive foresight).

"I mean what I say. Now's the time to watch him, or he may have any one of us by the throat before we know where we are. I'll be the first he'll go for," said Ralph, in broad vernacular; "he used to like me, but now that he's taken on to drink I feel that he wants to kill me."

At midnight on the fourth day from sailing Ralph had just relieved the wheel, and Macgregor had come on deck, and commenced to walk the quarterdeck in his usual dignified style. The vessel was being sailed by the wind, and his eyes became fixed aloft, watching, as was his custom, whether she was properly steered. At last he broke silence by shouting out:

"Hard up! Don't you see the rocks right ahead?" Then he sprang at Ralph like a tiger, and had nearly torn his clothes off him before other members of the crew came to his aid. The captain's strength was superhuman. It took four men to get him into his berth and lash him securely down, and in a few minutes he died in a screaming fit of madness.

It was promptly arranged that the body should, if possible, be landed in England, and as there was blowing a whole sail breeze from the east, her tail was put to it and then a heated discussion arose as to the proper course to steer for Tynemouth Castle. The mate said W. by N. Ralph insisted W. by S. from their position would land her right under the castle foot. As both stubbornly maintained they were right, it was agreed to come to a compromise by steering W. by N. one watch and W. by S. the next, and so on until the land was made. After this knotty question was settled an incident almost incredible in its awful gruesomeness took place. Ralph became smitten by a revengeful mania. He went below, took his deceased commander's clothes off, put his body on the table and commenced to lash at it with a piece of rope, exclaiming at every stroke, "You thrashed me, you tiger, when you were living, and I'll thrash you now that you're dead." The mate happened to go into the cabin while this performance was going on, and was stricken with chill horror.

"My God, Ralph, what are you doing?" the mate shouted.

"Don't you see what I'm doing, you d----n fool?" said Ralph, "I'll teach the villain to lash me for doing nothing!"

"But," said Munroe, "his body will be marked, and we will be had up for murder!"

"There is no fear of that. A corpse never gets marked by beating it."

This assurance relieved Mr Munroe so much that he covered his strange companion with profuse compliments on his knowledge of the inanimate human body, and nicknamed him 'Ralph-ower-mony.' After this extraordinary being had finished his gruesome revenge on the dead body of his master, it was placed in a hastily-constructed deal casement, and put on top of the longboat, and then covered over with the Union Jack and an awning, so that it might be kept cool.

There is no class of Englishmen who regard the national flag with such reverence as the sailor; to him it is a divinity, used as an emblem of glory, or sorrow, as the case may be. He disdains making the noisy, vulgar use of it that is sometimes practised at meetings by unctuous, ill-read politicians, whose abnormal egotism, impudence and ignorance cause them to boast of a devotion for the flag equalled by no one else. The sailor, on the other hand, speaks of it as a thing too sacred to act circus games with. If his shipmate dies at sea, he is sewn up in canvas and covered over with the Union Jack; a heavy weight is placed at his feet, and, with heads bowed low, they silently commit his remains to the deep. If a sailor dies in port, the flag is used to cover the coffin as a solemn token of having died while serving under its beneficent protection. Think of the beautiful sentiment that governs the sailor's ideal of using it, and then, if you can, think of the blatant political person and the use he puts it to! How it reminds you of Petticoat Lane, and makes you pray that England may be delivered from such disgusting impertinence!

Mr Munroe had assumed command, and discussed with his crew the idea of a burial at sea. This was strenuously opposed by Ralph, who insisted that the body should be carried to England in case the question of foul play should arise. This course was adopted, and great precaution was taken to prevent premature decomposition. A smart breeze from the N.E. carried the little brig rapidly towards the land, and on the morning of the third day she sailed into the roadstead for which she had been steered. The dual courses had worked out an accurate landfall. Before the anchor was let go, the pilot cobble came alongside.

"Where's the captain?" asked the pilot.

"The beggar's dead, sir," answered Ralph, ignoring the respect he owed to his superior officer, Mr Munroe, who requested him to keep his tongue quiet and allow him to speak. The anchor was dropped, sails furled and flag put half-mast, and the pilot was requested to go ashore and acquaint the owner with what had happened. At eleven o'clock every forenoon a few well-known owners met in the parlour of an inn, there to discuss matters of personal and public interest. The banking accounts and characters of their neighbours who did not belong to the coterie were pulled remorselessly to pieces. If they happened to have progressive ideas and were successful, their speedy bankruptcy was predicted. Each member of the party had "churchwardens" kept in a bracket with his name on, and only one glass of whiskey and one pipe of tobacco was indulged in until the evening sitting, when they did not stick at trifles. But the keynote of these forenoon and evening sittings was money. Mr Hobkirk and his friends had just got quietly seated and the conversation turned on the vessel that had been observed to anchor in the roads, when the pilot in wild excitement burst in upon their privacy, exclaiming:

"The Hebe has put back with the captain's dead body aboard!"

"How did he come by his death?" asked several of the party; "he was a stout, strong-looking man?"

"They say he died of drink," said the pilot.

"Ah," responded the comforting friends, "we told you, Hobkirk, what you might expect. You remember the voice coming down the chimney? That was his voice. We have been informed he could talk two ways. We never believed in him, and told you so."

"I admit it, gentlemen, I admit it. I have been deceived, but please do not refer to the chimney affair again; that unnerves me."

Instructions were given to the pilot to land the body of Captain Macgregor, and without any show of mourning the remains of this once brilliant man were put to rest in a drunkard's grave, close by the sea, far away from his own home. The story of how he came by his death and what subsequently occurred was told in all its ghastly detail to the pilots, who in turn spread it abroad, without diminishing the account given to them. Another captain was quickly engaged, and the Hebe sailed on her voyage. The late owners of Captain Macgregor were informed of his death, and about two weeks afterwards a comely-looking lady with a little boy of four years old called at Mr Hobkirk's house and asked for an interview. She was received with unfeigned displeasure. The owner commenced a vigorous tirade against the man who he considered had wronged him by killing himself with drink. The lady suddenly cut this flow of vindictive denunciation short by stamping her foot on the floor and shouting out: "Stop! I will listen to this no longer. I am the widow of the late captain. I have come from Scotland, not to hear your coarse abuse of him, but to learn where you have laid his body. Tell me this, and then I desire to hear no more from you. His effects and any money due from you to him you may send to this address."

Hobkirk interjected:

"He has no money due."

"Very well, then," responded Mrs Macgregor, "there will be none to send; but I must have his effects."