The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 366: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

On the Trail of a Sea Mystery. BY HERBERT LAWRENCE STONE. The strange tale of a ship that was found, and of a man who disappeared. SNE retiring from an active sea life I have been asked by several persons interested in the affair to set down a detailed statement of the case of the ship Harbinger and the mysterious disappearance of one Lloyd Newcomb. As Iam but a poor story-teller, I shall attempt to do no more here than to put down the events in the order that they befell; showing the bearing that each seemed to have upon the other, trying to convey to the reader the impressions that were made upon us at the time, and in the end seeing if the conclusions he draws are not the same as the ones we finally arrived at. It is some years since the events here set forth took place—aye, longer ago than I realize, I fancy, for I can remem- ber that’ it was in the days when there were still more sailing ships than steam- ers in the deep-sea carrying trade, and when the pilot boats often went as far to the eastward as the edge of the Grand Banks in their eagerness to put their men aboard incoming liners. I was a licensed New York pilot at- . tached to the old Washington, number nine, than which a stancher packet never sailed in the pilot fleet. I remember that we got out of New York just at the breaking up of that winter, intending to stand well to the southward to pick up the West Indian and South American business. But we had no sooner dropped the Highlands than we took a northcaster which sent us kiting before it to Hattcras. Here, the wind backing to the northward, we slammed her offshore and were soon wallowing about in the Stream, on the outer edge of which the gale finally left us, with every one of our pilots still abeard. It was a poor beginning to our trip, certainly, but there was no help for it. We got some canvas on our vessel as Gougle the wind fell, and had just begun our long beat back to the coast when the lookout reported a sail well off our star- board bow. Our boys were on deck in a jiffy to take a look at it, and through the glasses we soon made it out to be a large square-rigger, evidently inward bound. We bore off so as to put a man aboard of her, while I, to whom the lot of pilot- ing in the first ship had fallen, went below to get ready to leave. When I came on deck again, the sail was close aboard, and we saw that she was a large bark with only her lower topsails and spanker set. As yet there seemed no movement aboard toward getting more canvas on her, but as the gale had but lately sub- sided we thought nothing of it. We ran down to windward of her, and, throwing our vessel into the wind, I jumped into the yawl with a couple of the sailors and started over a cresting sea toward the stranger. There was no effort made by those aboard of her to heave to as we ap- proached, but as she was not making -much way we caught on to her chains and called to the deck for a ladder. None appeared, nor was there any an- swer, so after a moment I clambered up, telling the sailors to follew. We reached the deck and looked about for some sign of life, but not a soul met our gaze, while the gray, weather-stained decks and worn paint- work told us that she had been aban- doned for some time. We took a turn about the deck, peer- ing into forecastle and galley, our foot- steps and voices sounding strangely loud in the empty silenee, and as we saw nothing out of the way, walked aft to the wheel, which banged to and fro as the seas twisted the nerveless rudder.