CATCHING THE GHOST.

Ben had been inclined to doubt Chloe’s statement regarding the appearance of a ghost; but now, corroborated as it was by Jake, he could no longer question it. The cook had gone out specter hunting, which in itself was sufficient to prove that he did not give full credence to the old woman’s words, and he had actually found that very disagreeable thing for which he sought. The boy fancied he could feel a cold chill in the marrow of his bones, and he was quite sure his hair was standing up like bristles in a clothes-brush.

“How big was it, Jake?” he asked as he clutched the cook’s hand tightly lest the horrible thing might come to separate them.

“Well, it wasn’t overly big, lad, an’ that’s a fact. The size don’t count in sich creeters as that, an’ a little feller is as bad as a reg’lar giant.”

“But how large was it?”

“I wasn’t so pertec’lar as to measure,” Jake said slowly and in the most thrilling of whispers; “but as near as I could see before startin’ kinder sudden for the tent, I’d reckon it was as big as a dog. It was white, with a long tail that stood up straight like the liberty pole on Marsh’s Common.”

“Don’t you s’pose you could kill it?” Ben asked after another pause, during which he fancied he heard strange noises in the air.

“Kill a ghost?” Jake repeated as if the mere suggestion of such a thing filled him with horror. “Don’t you know, lad, that cannon-balls could go right through them things without hurtin’ ’em a bit?”

Ben had heard of this peculiarity on the part of unearthly visitors, but was never positive of the fact until at this minute, and the knowledge made him yet more frightened as well as despondent.

“What _can_ we do, Jake?”

“We’ve got to get outer this place.”

“I don’t see how we shall be able to do that until some vessel comes.”

“We must take to the raft, an’ run our chances among the keys to the south’ard. If the old woman won’t go with us peaceably, we’ll either have to leave her, or lash her right down to one of the timbers where she can’t help herself.”

If anything had been needed to prove that Jake was thoroughly alarmed by what he had seen, the unfolding of this plan would have been sufficient. He had spoken very positively several times since the Simoon struck the reef of the folly of attempting to reach any inhabited place in a raft that could be neither guided or propelled, and yet now he was willing and eager to try the experiment, knowing all the dangers to be encountered.

“When shall we start?” Ben asked faintly.

“One full day’s work will be enough to strengthen our raft so that it will carry plenty of provisions an’ us four. Then we can leave day after to-morrow mornin’, an’ sha’n’t have to stay but one more night in this place where ghosts come right up outer the ground.”

Ben was quite as willing to brave the dangers of the raft, rather than run the risk of an encounter with the specter, as was the cook, and he made no objection to the proposed plan.

Neither felt inclined to lie down again while they were surrounded by so many terrors, and yet it would be hard to walk around all night, therefore they compromised by sitting in front of the tent, where they conversed in whispers until both fell into uneasy and uncomfortable slumber, which was rendered painful by visions of horrible monsters stalking about in search of shipwrecked people whom they roasted on red-hot gridirons.

It can easily be imagined that they did not make any attempt to court sleep next morning. As soon as the first gray light of the coming day appeared in the sky Jake began to prepare breakfast, and Ben busied himself with useless work around the camp lest he might be asked to go to the raft, for he had no desire to wander off by himself while the ghost made a dwelling-place of their key.

The noise and odor of the cooking soon aroused Gertie and old Chloe, who could not fail to notice that something was amiss with their companions, and when they begun to ask questions, Jake told the story of his too successful search, concluding it by announcing that he was going away on the raft next morning.

Gertie was alarmed, as a matter of course, and the old woman was plunged into a state of helpless terror. It was impossible for her to make any intelligible remark. She crouched on the ground with uplifted hands and rolling eyes, the very personification of fear, and with a grayish pallor replacing the usually shining black of her face. Not once did she attempt any protest against embarking on the raft, and since she was the only one from whom objections to the plan might be expected, Jake and Ben looked upon the matter as settled.

As soon as breakfast had been eaten, the entire party went down to the shore, and the work of making a seaworthy craft out of the hastily constructed raft was begun, Chloe acting the part of a most interested spectator, as if eager to escape from the key regardless of the peril attendant upon the voyage.

It was necessary the workmen should have more material than had been lashed together when only a substitute for a ferry-boat was needed, and to this end Ben and Jake pulled out to the brig, bringing back with them the doors of the cabin and state-rooms, as well as such timbers as could readily be torn from their fastenings. They also secured a quantity of rope, a hammer and a few spikes, which made the labor decidedly lighter.

Jake was unwilling to spend the time necessary for the preparation for dinner because he thought it more important that they be ready to leave the key at the earliest possible moment, and old Chloe could not be persuaded to go back to the tent, so great was her fear that she might again be confronted by the specter. Ben was willing, though not eager, to do what he could in the matter of serving the meal, but he was needed at the beach to assist the chief raft-builder, therefore Gertie was obliged to play the part of cook.

“I can light a fire and heat the soup,” she said as she started toward the tent, “and after that has been done I’ll call you.”

“Don’t sing out till everything is ready,” Jake cried by way of caution, “for we mustn’t waste so much as a single minute.”

“Be keerful ob youseself, honey,” old Chloe said in a trembling voice, and Gertie went on, trying to appear brave, although she felt decidedly nervous.

During nearly an hour longer the raft-builders worked industriously, while the spectator watched every movement, and then the clear voice of Gertie could be heard summoning the ghost-ridden ones to dinner.

“Hurry up, aunty,” Jake said as he dropped timbers and rope, and came out of the water in which he had been wading nearly to his knees. “We’re goin’ to make a short job of the eatin’ business, for I don’t have any notion of stayin’ in this blessed place more’n one night longer.”

Old Chloe never moved more quickly than at that moment, when she feared being left to go alone to the tent. Had Jake walked as rapidly again, she would probably have succeeded in keeping as close by his side as she did until they were within sight of Gertie, who was sitting near the fire fondling some white object.

One glimpse of that which the child held in her arms, and the old woman shrieked as she threw up her hands and sunk a helpless mass of quivering flesh on the sand:

“Dar’s de ghos’, an’ it’ll murder dat lubley chile!”

Jake glanced quickly toward the girl, and then suddenly stepped back as if meditating flight, but in an instant he recovered his composure as Ben shouted:

“Where _did_ you find that cat, Gertie?”

“It came right up to me while I was getting dinner, and it must have been most starved to death if the way it ate cold soup is any sign. At first I thought it was Mammy Chloe’s ghost, and was just ready to run and scream when I heard it cry. Isn’t she pretty--pure white, with not a colored hair on her?”

Jake’s confusion was comical in the extreme. He walked slowly toward Gertie as he examined the animal narrowly, and then turned to look at the raft as he plunged his hands deep in his pockets and gave vent to a prolonged whistle. He did not stop to question how a cat came on that desolate island, for he was thoroughly abashed by the unmistakable fact that he had run away in fright from a half-starved, harmless animal, and positively declared that it was a specter. The gleam of the suffering creature’s eyes he had believed to be fire, and the tail standing “straight like the liberty-pole on Marsh’s common” had simply been magnified by his fears.

The cook had no idea of allowing himself to be held up to ridicule by Ben and Gertie if he could prevent it, therefore he said with more earnestness than truth:

“When I saw that thing I wasn’t so very certain what it was, but I thought we’d better get away from here as soon as we could so’s to keep the old woman quiet. Now she sees it’s only a cat, I hope she won’t be so foolish.”

Gertie ceased petting the animal long enough to look up at the cook with a twinkle of mirth in her eyes, but she refrained from making any remark, and Jake begun to point out to old Chloe the very foolish mistake she had made, as a means of hiding her own confusion.

It was not an easy matter to convince the negress that she had seen nothing more terrifying than a cat. After considerable urging she consented to look at the animal, and then, while admitting there was a slight resemblance between it and what had so alarmed her, insisted that it was a veritable ghost which she had met on the day previous.

Jake did not try very hard to induce the old woman to confess she had made a mistake, for he had been equally foolish, and did not care to have the fact brought out too prominently. When Chloe positively denied having transformed a cat into a ghost, he said in a matter-of-fact tone, and one which was remarkably free from fear, considering how thoroughly he had been alarmed but a few moments previous:

“Of course the cat looks a good deal like what we saw, but if she says it ain’t, that settles it, an’ the ghost is still roamin’ ’round the island. Howsomever, now that Gertie an’ Ben have got over bein’ scared, I don’t s’pose we’d better be in sich a hurry about leavin’.”

Against this decision old Chloe made no protest, and it was remarked privately by the younger members of the party that she seemed suddenly to have lost all fear, which was singular to say the least, if she was still firmly convinced she had seen and been chased by something unearthly.

After dinner, during which each of the castaways fed the cat as if she had rendered some valuable service, no mention was made of the proposed work on the raft. Jake composed his angular body in the best position for repose under the shade of a tree, and begun leisurely to smoke as if there was nothing urgent demanding his attention. Old Chloe bustled around the camp setting things generally to rights with apparently not a thought of making a hurried departure, and Gertie and Ben held an earnest and confidential conversation regarding the events which had caused so much terror and excitement.

It seemed as if the relief at finding that the ghost was only a large, half-starved cat was so great that Jake felt it necessary to spend the remainder of the afternoon in silent thanksgiving, for he did not even hint that it would be well to pay a visit to the brig before sunset, and deeply did he regret his indolence when another day dawned.

Just before twilight a supper of turtle-steaks, with plenty of boiled eggs, was served, and old Chloe evinced her gratitude because of the “laying of the ghost,” by making an enormous quantity of very strong tea, which she drank while a look of happiness made her face shine as if it had been a piece of ebony treated to an unusually vigorous application of furniture polish.

By the time the meal was finished the little party were glad to seek the shelter of their tent, for with the setting of the sun the wind sprang up from the north, and in an instant the warm air gave place to that which seemed icy cold.

The storm known as “a norther” was upon them, and it was even more disagreeable than Jake had declared it would be.

Every article which could be used as a covering was brought into requisition, and, although the shipwrecked ones were completely buried under the weight of blankets and canvas, they shivered and complained as if exposed to the fury of an Arctic gale.

The little party suffered quite as much from fear as from the cold, for as the wind increased in force the tent swayed back and forth until finally it was lifted entirely from its fastenings and thrown among the trees, leaving the castaways shelterless in the darkness of the night exposed to a pitiless storm.