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"The big three-masted coaling schooner
William H. Jourdan, lies at the iron works dock at Somerset [Fall River,
Massachusetts] , deserted by all except her black cook. She is reputed among
the villagers, to be haunted and her owners find it almost impossible to
ship a crew. She arrived at Somerset three weeks ago with a cargo of coal,
and, as usual, the crew were discharged, leaving only Captain Thresher, the
mate, the cook and the cabin boy aboard. During her trip the Jourdan had
fouled and damaged on of her bowers, and the captain sent it away for
repairs when he arrived at port.
A week ago Saturday the anchor was
returned, and while superintending the loading of the heavy piece of iron at
the railroad dock, Captain Thresher was thrown between the cars by the
sudden starting of the train and was killed. The unfortunate captain was
ordering the men to take hold of the anchor and turn it when the accident
happened, and the words of command were on his lips when death seized him.
The day after the captain's death
the mate seemed nervous and look as though he had slept but little, but he
made no confidant of anybody. The next day the mate told a man in the iron
works that he didn't want any more tricks played around the schooner in the
night, and, when asked to explain, he said:
"Somebody was aboard last night and
kept me awake for hours with the most outrageous performances you ever
heard. The boy and I turned in about 9 o'clock, and as we were both pretty
tired we soon fell asleep. I don't know how long I had been sleeping, but it
must have been two or three hours. When I awoke suddenly, not with a start,
you understand, but just found myself wide awake all at once, with a feeling
that something was wrong. My first thought was that something had happened
to the ship, forgetting for an instant that we were not at sea, but in a
second I noticed that the schooner was steady as a house, and remembered
that we were at the wharf. It was just coming into my mind that I must have
had a sort of nightmare, when I plainly heard the captain's voice giving the
order "Take hold of that anchor."
"Now I am not more given to
believing in such things than most men. I know that was the captain's voice
and those were the very last words I heard him say on earth. I might think I
was dreaming, if the boy hadn't heard the same thing. He asked me if I was
awake, and wanted to know if I'd said anything, and I said no, and asked him
if he was playing monkey tricks. He said he'd heard a voice like the
captain's, but supposed must be me. That gave me a queer sort of feeling,
but I didn't want him to know, so I said I guessed I'd been talking in my
sleep and told him to snooze away again.
"But somehow I couldn't sleep. It
seemed to me something was in the cabin. I couldn't see anything, but I
could feel it just as you can feel when somebody behind you is looking at
you hard. I don't say anything was there, but I know I was mighty
uncomfortable. At last I dozed again, and just as I was about to lose
myself, I heard something going on up forward on deck. I thought it might be
the cook throwing barrels about and paid no attention to it until I heard a
fearful thump on deck. Then I sprang up and rushed up the companion and
looked around. I couldn't see a soul on board, and after waiting awhile I
went below and laid awake until daylight. When I went on deck I found that
the bower anchor had been dropped from the bows aft nearly to the waist,
where the shore plank is. It takes a good many men to handle that piece of
iron, and how it got there I don't know."
That same day the mate and cabin boy
quit the vessel and left the town for parts unknown.
The mate's story, as told to an iron
works watchman, from whom the above version was obtained, was told and
retold among the villagers, gaining with each repetition, till some of the
townspeople relate that the vessel is peopled with an entire crew of spooks,
under command of the captain, and half of the people of the town would not
be surprised to wake up some morning and find the schooner had been sailed
away during the night by her ghostly crew.
There is enough sailor about the
Somerset people to make them superstitious, and especially is this is the
case with the older residents, who have fresh in their memory the tradition
of the old schooner Jefferson Borden, which formerly hailed from this port,
and which has for years borne the reputation of being haunted, since a
number of her crew were killed in a mutiny several years ago. The Borden
since has been sent down to Maine, her rig altered, and her name changed,
but she still bears the reputation of a haunted craft.
So the mates story finds general
credence in Somerset, and has produced such an impression that an offer of
$5 per night for a night watchman finds no taking, though there are plenty
of able-bodied men in town out of work. But a night watchman is scarcely
needed as no one in town will go down to the wharf after dark. The trouble
is generally attributed to the anchor which was the cause of the captain's
death. The only contradiction of the ghost story is the presence of the
cook, who still remains on board the schooner. He doesn't believe in the
ghost story theory and says that the noises were caused by rats. The rat
theory, however, doesn't explain how the anchor was moved, but that doesn't
seem to bother the cook. The villagers look upon him with awe and he is not
bothered with many visitors. The owners are afraid that the ghost will
materialize some night and carry the anchor away to a junk store. They want
to ship a crew but it is hard work
One of the crew of the haunted
schooner came to this city last night and applied for lodgings. He was
advised to return to the schooner. At this suggestion [by] the police
officials he exhibited a decided aversion, but did not tell the reason of
his reluctance. |
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