Tales of Terror from the Black Ship Read Online Free PDF

from a nearby pail and threw the hatchet into the sea. Then, with a calmness that surprised him, Tom carried on with his watch as if nothing had happened, and when it came time to be relieved, he took to his bunk and slept easily. Just as the ever-changing sea had closed over Harper, so too had Tom’s thoughts; he paid him no mind at all.
    The following day the crew were called to attention and told that a man was missing, and that the man was Harper. Tom naturally feigned surprise and joined in with the mutterings and so forth until he realised that Captain Fairlight was standing at his side.
    ‘You were on watch last night, Webster,’ said the captain. ‘Did you see anything?’
    ‘I did not,’ said Tom, all serious and grave and shaking his head. ‘Well – that is . . .’ he began, with mock confusion.
    ‘Come now, lad,’ said the captain. ‘Let’s hear it, if there’s anything to hear.’
    ‘Well, sir,’ said Tom, ‘I did see Harper at one point. But I don’t think I should say . . .’
    ‘Say what, lad?’
    Tom took a deep breath and studied his feet for nearly a minute before replying.
    ‘He was drunk, sir,’ he said, staring at the deck all in sham reluctance. ‘And he was still drinking. I told him he ought not to be there but he bade me go to hell, sir, and made to strike me, so I was too afeared to stop him, sir.’
    Tom was so taken with his story that he surprised himself when tears sprang to his eyes.
    ‘I know he was not a popular man, sir, but I wish to God now I had been braver so as I could have been some help to the poor wretch. If I had spoken up, then he might still be here, sir.’
    Tom flinched as the captain clapped a hand on his shoulder. He feared he had gone too far and given himself away. But the captain was smiling.
    ‘No blame can be laid at your door,’ he said. ‘Not wanting to speak ill of the dead, but Harper was a devil for the grog and, though I like a drop of rum as well as the next man, the sea ain’t the place for drunkards.’
    There was much nodding and muttering at this, for every man aboard knew it to be true. It was all too easy to imagine Harper had simply fallen overboard in a drunken stupor. Tom could picture it perfectly himself, even though he knew otherwise.
    The captain spoke a few words from the Good Book and the crew said their amens. In no time at all they were on with the business of sailing and Harper was lost in their wake. It may seem harsh to those who do not know the sea, but a sailor accepts these things and moves on.
    In the days that followed, Tom was surprised to find that some of the crew who had most scorned him for his supposed friendship with Harper now gave him a sympathetic nod and smile and included him in their talk. All the old animosity was gone in an instant. The curse of Harper had been lifted.
    The world seemed so much brighter, so much better for Harper not being in it that Tom found it hard to believe that his actions could have been wrong. If anything, his death felt like a blessing. In fact it would have been true to say that Tom’s thoughts would have been entirely untroubled had it not been for the cat, Pitch.
    Tom could no longer, in any degree, bear the company of that creature Harper had held so dear. He had never wasted any affection on the animal and felt the dislike to be mutual, but the cursed feline now seemed to strike a pose whenever he saw Tom, pausing in his cattish activities to look at him in such a way that made the boy feel the cat was judging him.
    And how could a cat – a cat! – stand in judgement of him, an animal that killed without thought or conscience? Why, Tom had seen that flea-bitten creature kill a thousand times with no more motive than boredom or amusement, torturing some mouse for half an hour before absent-mindedly leaving its headless, uneaten corpse as litter on the deck. How dare this murderous devil judge him? Just because he reserved some special affection for that bully