The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1903-11-04
OCEAN TALES

cleaning the gangway brass, looked up,
gave a frightened scream and bolted
down into the cabin.
Only one man about there had never
seen the mates big figure, and he was
the dock Waterman. AS he did not see
anything particularly ghostly in it this
first time, and besides, had a pretty
clear conscience, he took no part in the
panic that followed. He is the only
one capable Of giving a concise, i'm
partial account of what happened-the
rest shiver yet when they think of it.
I have heard the Waterman tell the
story several times, and he always
tells it in a humorous vein. To him 1t
was extremely funny. You see, he did
not know the mate. should have been
dead ten days.
Trig Olafsen came UP the gangway,
his head thrown up like lion smelling
fresh meat. The plank quivered be-
meath his ponderous tread. His huge
mustache trailed back over his set jaws,
his hair bristled and his big hairy
arms were swollen and bare to the ell
bows, for he had thrown off his hat and
coat on the dock. He paused at the
top for just one moment, then, with
a roar like breakers on a reef, he
bounded to the deck.
The Waterman says he never saw
such wild SCRAMBLED couldn't be
compared to the panic at Waikiki,
when the tiger got loose in the circus
menagerie. Not only the ship, but the
whole island was much too small for
the Aloha's crew just then.
The ghost seized a capstan bar from
the rack at the break of the poop and
charged midships Five of the men
1eaped overheard and swan frantically
across the harbor to the mail dock.
Two fed up the rigging and the rest
sprang to the dock, a. drop of nearly
ten feet. Up the track they pelted,
Trig Olafsen after them, hurting the
capstan bar ahead of him, picking it up
again when he got to it, and roaring
English all the while.
Here the Waterman became hvsteri-
cal and saw no more until Olafsen re-
appeared On the deserted deck, roaring
and tuning among the empty coal
buckets and using most unghostly lam
guage. Then the skipper came UP from
below and staggered against the sky
light, white as water-soaked corpse.
what in de name Of de FLYING
Dutchman's figure-head We starin' at
me like dat for?" roared Trig Olafsen.
He really didn't swear by the flying
Dutchman's figure-head; it was some
thing decidedly more expressive then
that.
The captain recovered-no drowned
man could swear like that, no living
man could swear like that but Trig
Olafsen, in flesh and blood.
The skipper and the mate approach
ed each other, but what they said the
Waterman could not hear. Finally
both went below into the cabin.
None of the mates watch came
aboard that night. The men of the
other watch came struggling aboard to-
ward dusk. They had no guilty con-
sciences to keep them away. The 9TH
ers made for the hills up by the Pail
and were captured by the police next
day and brought aboard in irons. The
mate himself conducted the hunt, but
lodged no complaint against them-he
only wanted them with him on the pas
sage to Frisco.
OF course he left Honolulu on the
Aloha as mate. The record of that pas
sage is lost to authentic history, but
occasionally you meet sailor who will
tell you that there really is a hell
because he has been there. The port
watch Of the Aloha reached Frisco
alive that passage, but they were car
ried ashore on stretchers aboard the
marine hospital launch. Nor was Trig
0lafsen ever heard to complain Of hav-
| ing gone unavenged. He always re-
fers to that passage with a big COM
placent smile that sends his two-lip
whiskers up like bull horns.
Now to his story. He only tells it
when he is drunk. He weeps and
laughs by turns, but you do neither
you listen, spellbound. And after he
has finished you know why the Vik-
| ings of old ruled the sea.
He begins by swearing at the SPAN
ker-sheet block. Never trust a SPAN
ker-sheet block when it lambs. You
can't depend on it; it's treacherous, he
says. 1t usually takes five beers to
bring him through a treatise on it's
proper management. About then he
will plunge into his story, as he plung-
ed into the tropical sea that dark
morning.
When he rose he saw the Aloha's
stern fading into the darkness.
Haul in on your forebraces!" he
| roared, expecting to hear the shouts
! OF the watch and the rattle of blocks
and cordage. But he heard only the
tapping of the still seething wake about
him, and then suddenly he realized the
truth. The stern light dwindled and at
last danced far off, mere speck.
can see him yet as he described