Page:The Pacific Monthly volumes 1-3.djvu/39

 report that not a soul was to be seen on board.

"Some of the men took a boat and rowed across the river, and, walking over the sandspit, came down to the shore within hailing distance of the vessel rocking idly just beyond the breakers. They called and shouted themselves hoarse, but elicited no response, nor caught sight of any living thing on board. But as they turned away, above the roar of the surf rose a cry so wild, so weird and mournful that their very hearts stood still. Just once they heard it, and they could have sworn that it came from the deck of the deserted ship.

"No one thought of sleep that night. The mystery surrounding the vessel out there in the darkness was a thing that oppressed them heavily.

"The morning of the third day found them ready for action. It was out of the question to carry any one of the heavy fishing boats across the sands and launch it through the always boisterous surf, but the day was calm, with not a breath of wind, and the bar lay as smooth as a mountain lake. It would be an easy matter to pull out and back before there should be any change in the weather. Six of the best oarsmen in the place, therefore, set off on the last of the tide in the gray dawn. They pulled a steady stroke, and the swiftly ebbing tide seemed to fairly shoot them along and out across the bar. When well outside they turned southward, and those watching from the shore could note the small boat rise and fall with the swell of the sea.

"As for the men themselves, a silence fell upon them as they turned toward the ship, that was unbroken till they came within a cable's length of her bows. Then they rested upon their oars and hailed. There was no answer. Again they shouted, and a low, whining cry thrilled the morning air. They rowed slowly all around her. There was not another sound heard from her decks, nor had they sight of anything, human or alive.

"The red and blue shirts of the sailors were hanging aloft as if to dry. Her life- boats were undisturbed. Everything looked as it had looked when she lay in the bend of the river three days before,

save that she seemed a little lower in the water as she swung there in dan- gerous proximity to the breakers, held only by her kedge anchor. From her stern dangled a rope, evidently the painter of Fred's boat. This rope showed a clean cut, as if it had been severed by a sharp knife.

"They boarded her without difficulty. As the first man stepped over the rail the meaning of that weird cry was clear, for there bounded to meet him 'Dis,' the captain's handsome St. Bernard, gaunt with hunger and wild with joy.

"They searched from stem to stern; they went down into her hold; they look- ed high and low, everywhere. Not a soul was to be found. Save for 'Dis' the ship was deserted. How, when or where it was beyond them to determine. Nothing but the men was missing. The sailors' stormcoats and caps were lying in the empty bunks, as if but a moment since discarded; the ship's log, the captain's private papers, the compass, all things, in fact, were in place. If master and men had left that ship alive they had left it empty-handed. Their fate, the strange and sudden disappearance, and the man- ner of it, are shrouded in impenetrable mystery.

"I never saw my boys again. But — " The captain paused and glanced toward his wife. There were tears glittering on her long, dark lashes.

"Is there nothing more?" asked Neja softly. "Did you never hear or find even the least little hint or trace, nothing that gave you any clue?"

"No," replied the captain; "nothing, at least nothing that I could be sure of. It is true that some six months later the headless body of a man was picked up on the beach 20 miles to the north; that was thought by many to be that of the captain of the Mist, from a pecu- liarly-chased gold ring found on the little finger of the left hand, but no one ever really knew. No; there was noth- ing, but — " The captain looked again at his young wife. She shook her head and smiled through her tears.

"That is another story, my dear," she said; "another story altogether, and to- night is not the time to tell it."