VIII
It is probable that the polite reader of this veracious narrative,
instead of considering it as the effort of the author to set before him
a sober and well-digested history, has been all this while amusing
himself by regarding it only as a fanciful tale designed for his
entertainment. If this be so, the writer may hardly hope to convince
him that what is to follow is a serious narrative of that which, though
never so ingenuous in its recapitulation, is an altogether inexplicable
phenomenon. Accordingly, it is with extraordinary hesitation that the
scribe now invites the confidence of his reader in the succinct truth
of that which he has to relate. It is in brief as follows:
That upon the last night of this part of his voyage, Barnaby True was
awakened from slumber by flashes of lightning shining into his cabin,
and by the loud pealing of approaching thunder. At the same time
observing the sound of footsteps moving back and forth as in great
agitation overhead, and the loud shouting of orders, he became aware
that a violent squall of wind must be approaching the vessel. Being
convinced of this he arose from his berth, dressed quickly, and hurried
upon deck, where he found a great confusion of men running hither and
thither and scrambling up and down the rigging like monkeys, while the
Captain, and one whom he had come to know as the Captain's mate, were
shouting out orders in a strange foreign jargon.
A storm was indeed approaching with great rapidity, a prodigious circle
of rain and clouds whirling overhead like smoke, while the lightning,
every now and then, flashed with intense brightness, followed by loud
peals of thunder.
By these flashes of lightning Barnaby observed that they had made land
during the night, for in the sudden glare of bright light he beheld a
mountainous headland and a long strip of sandy beach standing out
against the blackness of the night beyond. So much he was able to
distinguish, though what coast it might be he could not tell, for
presently another flash falling from the sky, he saw that the shore was
shut out by the approaching downfall of rain.
This rain came presently streaming down upon them with a great gust of
wind and a deal of white foam across the water. This violent gale of
wind suddenly striking the vessel, careened it to one side so that for
a moment it was with much ado that he was able to keep his feet at all.
Indeed, what with the noise of the tempest through the rigging and the
flashes of lightning and the pealing of the thunder and the clapping of
an unfurled sail in the darkness, and the shouting of orders in a
strange language by the Captain of the craft, who was running up and
down like a bedlamite, it was like pandemonium with all the devils of
the pit broke loose into the night.
It was at this moment, and Barnaby True was holding to the back-stays,
when a sudden, prolonged flash of lightning came after a continued
space of darkness. So sharp and heavy was this shaft that for a moment
the night was as bright as day, and in that instant occurred that which
was so remarkable that it hath afforded the title of this story itself.
For there, standing plain upon the deck and not far from the
companionway, as though he had just come up from below, our hero beheld
a figure the face of which he had seen so imperfectly once before by
the flash of his own pistol in the darkness. Upon this occasion,
however, the whole figure was stamped out with intense sharpness
against the darkness, and Barnaby beheld, as clear as day, a great
burly man, clad in a tawdry tinsel coat, with a cocked hat with gold
braid upon his head. His legs, with petticoat breeches and cased in
great leathern sea-boots pulled up to his knees, stood planted wide
apart as though to brace against the slant of the deck. The face our
hero beheld to be as white as dough, with fishy eyes and a bony
forehead, on the side of which was a great smear as of blood.
All this, as was said, stood out as sharp and clear as daylight in that
one flash of lightning, and then upon the instant was gone again, as
though swallowed up into the darkness, while a terrible clap of thunder
seemed to split the very heavens overhead and a strong smell as of
brimstone filled the air around about.
At the same moment some voice cried out from the darkness, "William
Brand, by God!"
Then, the rain clapping down in a deluge, Barnaby leaped into the
saloon, pursued by he knew not what thoughts. For if that was indeed
the image of old William Brand that he had seen once before and now
again, then the grave must indeed have gaped and vomited out its dead
into the storm of wind and lightning; for what he beheld that moment,
he hath ever averred, he saw as clear as ever he saw his hand before
his face.
This is the last account of which there is any record when the figure
of Captain William Brand was beheld by the eyes of a living man. It
must have occurred just off the Highlands below the Sandy Hook, for the
next morning when Barnaby True came upon deck it was to find the sun
shining brightly and the brigantine riding upon an even keel, at anchor
off Staten Island, three or four cable-lengths distance from a small
village on the shore, and the town of New York in plain sight across
the water.
'Twas the last place in the world he had expected to see.
