The Mason County journal. [volume] (Shelton, W.T.) 1886-1927, 1898-11-11
GHoST OF THE PENGUIN"
BY WILL LIsENBEE.

had laid at anchor in the little harbo-
at Bastia. She was 4 small schooner, Il
wea ther-beaten, lubberly craft, with
her yards splintered and ono Of her
masts broken, yet she looked strongly
picturesque, standing with bare poles
against the flaming sunset sky, as !
allowed my little boat to drift before
the gentle breeze.
Aboard the craft there were no signs
of Life visible, and I knew that Mug
gins must be ashore, filling himself
with rum, as was his custom when
Capt. Darke was absent.
My old friend, the captain, had been
beating about the Mediterranean with
his lubberly schooner for half a score
of years, and so he might still have been
engaged, but for the arrival of letter
at Eastia telling him Of newly-in-
herited fortune left him by an uncle
who had been living in Florence.
But upon receipt ot the goods new he
was off at once, leaving his disabled
schooner in charge of Muggins, an old
sailor who was more honest than sober.
AS my boat drifted alongside the
Penguin / perceived a rope trailing
over the port side, and, making my lit
tie craft fast, drew myself upon deck.
/ looked about me, but no one was
visible. It was evident that was the
only soul aboard the Penguin.
threw myself or q camp-stool in the
shadow Of the sail and fell to regard
ing the range of dark hills that rose
back of the romantic little city. Pres
emily was interrupted by the sound of
cars, and n few moments later Mug
gins tawny head appeared over the rail.
He started when he saw me, and was
about to beat a hasty retreat when my
voice stopped him.
"Bless me, 1 thought you were a
ghost, I did, by the powers!" he said,
seeming well pleased that his fears had
not been realized.
"Well. now, what the deuce is there
about me, Muggins, to make you think
me ghost?" asked.
''Oh, it isn't that you look like a
ghost, Mr.. Raymond" he returned,
alphabetically. "But, you see, when
cove is looking to see a ghost, he's pref
ty certain to take the first live thing his
eyes fall on for what he's looking for
'Then you were expecting to see
something of the supernatural kind?"
That's fact, Mr.. Raymond, though
faint often cove is believed when he
tells such a story. There's a ghost on
this old hulk, or else I'm losing my eye
sight,
"And you really believe in such non
sense?"
81 believe what 1 sees, that's ALL"
what did you see?"
'Well, since you ask, I don't mind
telling you. You see, since Capt.
Darkc went away and the crew was dis
charged, the Penguin has been under
my care, and have been sleeping
aboard the vessel and spending most
Of my time here. Last night about two
O'Clock I woke, thinking heard some
thing moving near me. [ was sleeping
in my cot on the deck, and as I looks
about me sees woman, all in white,
moving like specter right by the
hatchway. While I was watching, it
seemed to sink into the deck and disap-
pear. I'm not the man to run from
single night-prowlcr, but 1 felt queer
like at this, and can't see how " oman
could be on the Penguin. Thinking she
might have descended the companion
ladder, l goes down with lantern, but
finds nothing. Then / looks all over
the ship with the same result. slept
no more that night, and though look
after the ship during the day, shan't
sleep here again if know myself, call
it ghost or what you will"
With this he picked up lantern and
descended to his boat that lay along
side.
'Then I shall spend the night here
and lay your ghost for you," said.
you'll greatly oblige me if you WILL"
he returned, though I'll be blowed if
1 think you succeed. Good evening,
MIR. Raymond. I'll drop alongside early
in the morning and see how you have
Jared. There's the key to my cabin"
he added, tossing the key upon the
deck. You'll find pipes and plenty of
tobacco, and q sip OF rum in a decanter.
if you look close. Now again good
night to YOU"
His oars dipped into the water, and
he was gone.
Dusk was already settling over the
water. l took a seat on the deck and lit
d cigar, and began running over in my
mind some of the events that had be-
fallen me since my arrival in Corsica.
For more than three months I had
been staying in the romantic little
island, finding restful charm in it's
quiet seciusion that was a pleasing con-
trast to the life 1 had been spending
for the past two years in the gay capital
of the restless and pleaeure-loving
French.
One is not likely to expect to meet
with adventures of the thrilling kind
in the peaceful precincts of Bastia, yet
something bordering upon this had
come to my lot less than month be-
fore.
For the amateur artist the quaint lit
tie city will furnish many subjects for
the pencil and brush, and had made
good my opportunities since my ar
rival.
The most priced among my collec-
ton was the portrait of veda, the little
Corsican fruit-seller. There was some
thing fascinating in her very pose, and
the dark beauty of her face had drawn
me to her as if by some subtle sitchery.
One evening. as / was strollinp
through the streets. heard cry of
mortal terror come from the court of
ruined building where several poor