Tales of terror
my people before me had done. I wanted to gradually mount the ladder
until I reached the top, and I knew that the quixotic expedition he
proposed would have defeated my object. I therefore declined to fall in
with his views. It riled him for a time, but at last he admitted that
he had no right to try and persuade me against my will; but as far as
he was concerned he was going. And go he did, much to my regret, I must
confess. Although it went somewhat against my grain, I helped him to
secretly get his duds on shore, and some money that I had I handed over
to him.
‘We spent our last night together at a _café_ in the town of Monte
Video; and when the time came for us to part he wrung my hand, and I
was cut up in a way I had never been before. After that I saw no more
of him, nor did I hear anything of him for ten years, when we met again
under very extraordinary circumstances.
‘I was then mate of a splendid barque called the _Curlew_, hailing from
Bristol. We had taken out a cargo of iron to Bilbao, there the ship was
chartered by the Spanish Government to convey five hundred soldiers
and a quantity of specie to Havana. The _Curlew_ was an exceptionally
fine vessel, with unusually good ’tween deck space, and therefore very
suitable as a transport. We made a good passage to Havana, landed the
troops, but were told we should have to retain the specie for a few
days until some grandee or other came to receive it. He happened then
to be up the country, but was expected back in the course of a week. As
we had made a quicker passage than was expected, it had thrown him out
in his calculations. Well, of course, it didn’t matter to us much, as
our charter provided for our return to Bilbao; and, equally of course,
so long as we were employed by the Spanish authorities we sailed under
the Spanish flag.
‘The second night after our arrival I went on shore, and in strolling
through the town my attention was arrested by a sign over the door of a
drinking-place. It read, “Old England, kept by Will Bradshaw.” This and
the sound of English voices induced me to enter, and I found the place
pretty well crowded with sailor men and Spanish women of a disreputable
class. I saw at once the sort of house it was, and as I did not not
consider it advisable for me as chief mate of a Government vessel to
be seen there, I was for clearing out again when I noticed a big,
brawny, powerfully-built fellow mixing drinks behind the bar. He was
unmistakably an Englishman. His face was burnt brown. He had a dark,
bushy beard, and looked like a man who had a large spice of the devil
in him. Despite the beard the face seemed familiar to me, and when I
heard him call out an order to one of his waiters, the voice left me no
longer in doubt. It was the voice of Peter Gibson. So I pushed my way
through the crowd to the counter, for it was not likely I could leave
without renewing acquaintance with my old chum, and I asked, “Isn’t
your name Peter Gibson?”
‘“No, it isn’t,” he yelled. “I’m Will Bradshaw, the boss of this
place.” I was taken aback for a minute, for I was sure I couldn’t be
mistaken. Then it flashed on me that Peter had a reason for being known
as Will Bradshaw; so I pulled out a pocket-book, wrote my name on a
leaf, tore it out, and handed it to him. I saw a look of surprise come
into his eyes and his face change colour. Then he grasped my hand and
wrung it, told an assistant to look after the place, and asking me to
follow him, he led the way by a side entrance to a large garden at the
back of the house, where seats were placed under the palm trees, and a
few coloured lamps were hung up. Nearly every seat was occupied by men
and women, and negro waiters were attending to their wants.
‘Peter took me to a remote corner of the garden, where there was a sort
of summer-house on a knoll.
‘“We can have a quiet yarn here,” he said. Then he called one of the
negroes and told him to bring a bottle of wine, and that done, he began
in his old masterful way to ask me questions about my career during
the past ten years. I told him straight; but when I questioned him he
shirked my questions, simply saying, “Well, I’ve had a lot of roughing,
old chap, and have been in some queer corners. I drifted down here
about two years since, just as the former proprietor of this shanty
went off the hooks with Yellow Jack. I made a bid for the place and got
it, but had to give bills for the greater part of the purchase money,
and I’ve still got a lot of millstones round my neck. I’m rather sick,
and think of chucking it and going on the rampage again.”
‘We yarned away for two hours, when I had to go, and naturally I asked
him to come and see me on board the vessel. He turned up the next
day, and the day after that; and I told him as an item of news that
my skipper was going into the country on the morrow for a few days to
shoot with a party of friends, and that I should be in charge; and I
invited him to come on board and have dinner with me in the evening, an
invitation he readily accepted.
‘When he turned up he had a friend with him, a Spaniard who spoke
good English, and whom he introduced to me as Alonzo Gomez. He said
he wanted me to know this man, as he was a good sort, and might be of
use to me. He was described as a planter, but I couldn’t help thinking
there was a good deal more of the loafer than the planter about him.
However, he was very polite, as most Spaniards are, and as he seemed to
be rather an amusing cuss, I thought I had judged him too harshly. Of
course, I gave my guests a good feed, and made the steward open some
champagne. During the dinner Peter asked me a lot of questions about
the ship, and how much Spanish money we had on board, and where it was
kept. If it had been anyone else, and at any other time, I should have
resented these questions, but I felt there was no harm in answering my
old schoolfellow and shipmate.
‘When the dinner was over Peter said that for old acquaintance sake
we must have a jorum of rum punch, and that he would make it. So I
told the steward to get the necessary ingredients, and Peter set to
work to concoct the liquor. I don’t remember much more after that. I
didn’t come to my senses until the next morning. I found on turning
out that the steward was ill, and on my going to him he told me that
my friends had given him some of the punch. It had made him sick at
first, and afterwards he fell into a heavy sleep from which he had
not long awakened, and that he was then suffering from a frightful
headache and a heavy, drowsy feeling. That was precisely my condition;
but I attributed it to not having drunk wisely, but too well. The
second mate, who had been on shore the previous night, undertook to
do certain work I had to attend to; and having given the steward some
medicine from the medicine chest, I went and turned in once more, and
slept pretty well the whole day. Anyway, I did not turn to again until
the following morning.
‘In the course of that day, the high official who was to receive the
specie came on board with an escort, and commanded the strong room in
the afterpart of the cabin to be opened, and the specie brought out. I
at once procured the keys from a safe in the captain’s cabin, and on
going to the strong room, I was surprised and alarmed to find that the
various seals put upon the door at Bilbao were broken, and they had
been broken quite recently, as two or three days before I had examined
them and found them all right. My alarm and confusion increased when,
having got the door open, we discovered that two of the boxes, one
containing Bank of Spain notes and the other gold dollars, had been
burst open, and partly rifled of their contents. Altogether a sum in
notes and gold equivalent to twenty thousand pounds had been stolen.
‘The big-wig was in a great state, and at once sent on shore for a
magistrate and a lot of military officers, and began an inquiry there
and then; and I, having been in charge of the ship for some days, was
practically put on trial.
‘Perhaps I needn’t tell you that I felt I could at once name the thief.
His name was Peter Gibson, alias Will Bradshaw. He and his Spanish chum
had drugged me and the steward; of that I had no doubt then, and as
all the crew had gone on shore except the boatswain and the cook, and
two of the hands who were on duty at the gangway, it was easy for the
rascals to carry out their nefarious scheme of getting at the specie.
‘Now, I’m not talking mere words to you when I tell you that it went
against my grain to denounce my old schoolfellow and shipmate, and
at first I resolved that I wouldn’t. But, after all, a chap’s own
interests have to be counted first, and as Gibson had been mean hound
enough to drug me and carry off money under my care, I didn’t see why
I should screen him. So I denounced him, and in a very short time he
was under arrest. But even then he might have escaped conviction had it
not been for his stupidity in keeping the bank-notes. His friend, who
was also arrested, turned out to be a notorious character with a most
evil reputation, and was looked upon as an expert in picking locks. The
task they had set themselves of stealing the money was comparatively
easy, as all the conditions were in their favour, and I fell a too easy
victim to their cunning.
‘Well, of course, I had to attend the trial and give evidence. The
crime was considered very serious indeed, as Government property had
been stolen and Government seals unlawfully broken. The offence was
called a first-class one, and the penalty was death. No such sensation
had been provided for Havana for many a long day. It was considered
better than a bull-fight.
‘To make a long story short, the result of it all was that the two
rascals were convicted and sentenced to be shot. The verdict cut me
to the heart, and as only a short shrift was allowed the culprits, as
the sentence was to be carried out in twenty-four hours, I obtained
permission to visit Gibson. I found him in rather a dejected state,
seated in a courtyard of the gaol which was guarded by soldiers. As
soon as he saw me he seemed to go mad, reviled me in language that was
of a pretty fiery character, then cursed me and swore that he would
haunt me and drive me to madness by appearing to me on dark nights at
sea.
“You are a doomed man,” he said, “and will come to a sudden and
terrible end. I leave my curse to you.”
‘I tried to reason with him, but I might as well have tried to reason
with an enraged wild cat in the jungle. He did nothing but utter curses
on me, and recognising how hopeless it was to try and appease him, I
withdrew, and the next morning he and his pal were shot at daybreak.
‘Although I was much cut up by the way he had treated me, I did not
attach any importance to either his curses or his threats. I wasn’t
altogether free from superstition, what sailor is? but I quite believed
that when a person was dead he was done with. I soon began to find
out, however, that I was wrong, for some weeks later, when we were on
our passage back to Bilbao, I had the middle watch one night, just as
we got into the Bay of Biscay. It was a wild night, and we were close
hauled under double reefed topsails. Suddenly out of the waves came a
glowing figure. It was Gibson’s spectre. He shrieked at me, and I heard
his curses again, and again he told me I was doomed.
‘Since then I’ve seen him often. He has kept his word. He has haunted
me, and is driving me mad and hounding me to death. Yes, I am doomed. I
feel it and know it. Nothing can avert the doom.
‘You know my story now. Don’t ridicule it; don’t laugh at me; for to me
it’s a terribly serious business, and I feel that I shall never see the
dear woman I love again.’
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