Middletown transcript., 1870-04-02
gelett STORY.
"PETER THE SWEDES" GHOST
BY LIEUT.. FRANK BARR.

" Peter the Swede," has stuck hisself!"
The good bark Iris, of which, some ff-
teen years ago | wrote myself chief mate,
was none of your old fashioned craft, with
bows like washing tub, but a beautiful
little half clipper, as neat and trim as a
yacht, and good deal faster than some.
Instead of the old style forecastlc below
the deck, noisome, close and damp--for
some of the spray flying over the weather
bow generally managed to find its way be-
low, where the want of ventilation made
its drying an affair of time-she had a
roomy, comfortable house on deck, reach
ing from just abaft the foremast to the
main hatch.
In the forward part, partition separa-
ted the galley from the portion in which
the sailors lived, which latter was fitted
up with neat berths, and was altogether a
very nice affair.
Well, say, the Iris had house on
deck, with the doors close to the after
end, and one morning as paced the deck
in my watch, the time being about two
bells, or five o'clock, A. M. half nude
figure, pale-faced, wild-eycd, with star
tied look about the disordered hair, burst
from the door on the lee side, and came
rushing aft to me, with the cry which be-
gins my story breaking from his his trem-
bling lips
Peter the Swede," has stuck hisself!"
"What do you mean?' I asked half
angrily, for | had been in a reverie, in
which home and absent friends bore the
principal part, and the cry for a moment
startled me-
"Why, sir, Peter the Swede," has
stuck his knife into hisself."
ran to the house, and found that the
man had indeed, i" stuck his knife into
hisself."
He lay upon his back in his berth. with
the blood gushing from a ghastly wound
in his naked breast. I at once closed the
wound by pressing the lips together with
my thumbs, and set one of the men to max
ing bandage, while another under my
direction, prepared large compress.
Placing the latter on the wound, bind
ing it tightly on with thebandage, and de-
luging the whole with tincture of Arnica,
l succeeded in checking the flow of blood,
at least externally, or few minutes more
would have drained away his life.
We were two days out from Valparaiso,
bound to San Francisco.
We had shipped Peter in Valparaiso, a
tair-haired, blue-eyed, handsome young
Scandinavian, some twenty-five or twenty
three years of age.
He was apparently in good health when
he came on board, but the next day he
complained of a pain in his breast, which
increased in violence until his agony
seemed to be almost insupportable.
He bore 1t manfully, although the cor
rugated brow, drawn closely over his eyes,
the blue and compressed lips, and the
large drops of cold perspiration standing
on his forehead, sufficiently evinced the
terrible nature of his tortures. Occasion
ally a low but heart-rending groan would
break from him, but in no other way did
he yield to the pain.
did everything that very limited ac-
quaintance with medicine suggested for
his relief, and finally, about ten o'clock,
P. NJ. on the day preceding that on which
my story opens, l administered as large a
dose of morphine as I dared to give.
It had the effect of inducing deep
sleep, lasting until eight bells of the mid
watch. or four o'clock, A. M. at which
time he awoke with groan, and told the
man In the berth below him, that the pain
was worse than ever, that he could not
stand it long, and that if he did not get
better soon, he would, to use his own ex-
preston, as the man gave it, let it out
with his knife"
After that he was silent, and the man
to whom he had spoken not thinking it ne
cessary to report what he had said, soon
fell asleep.
He was suddenly awakened by smoth-
cred cry, and lay for moment to see
what it was, when he felt something warm
! drop on his upturned face. Putting his