The Lost Ship Page #2

"The Lost Ship" by W. W. Jacobs is a captivating tale that combines elements of adventure and mystery. The story follows a group of sailors and their quest to uncover the truth about a ship that has mysteriously vanished. As they navigate treacherous waters and confront various challenges, the narrative explores themes of courage, camaraderie, and the unpredictability of the sea. Jacobs' rich storytelling and vivid characterizations draw readers into a world of maritime intrigue, making it a compelling read for fans of classic nautical fiction.

• Action and Adventure
• Fiction

								

arose she thought of those other women, and, snatching a shawl from its
peg behind the door, ran up the deserted street with her tidings.

In a very short time the town was astir. Like a breath of hope the
whisper flew from house to house. Doors closed for the night were
thrown open, and wondering children questioned their weeping mothers.
Blurred images of husbands and fathers long since given over for dead
stood out clear and distinct, smiling with bright faces upon their dear
ones.

At the cottage door two or three people had already collected, and
others were coming up the street in an unwonted bustle.

They found their way barred by an old woman—a resolute old woman, her
face still working with the great joy which had come into her old life,
but who refused them admittance until her son had slept. Their thirst
for news was uncontrollable, but with a swelling in her throat she
realised that her share in Tetby’s Pride was safe.

Women who had waited, and got patient at last after years of waitings
could not endure these additional few hours. Despair was endurable, but
suspense! “Ah, God! Was their man alive? What did he look like! Had he
aged much?”

“He was so fatigued he could scarce speak,” said she. She had
questioned him, but he was unable to reply. Give him but till the dawn,
and they should know all.

So they waited, for to go home and sleep was impossible. Occasionally
they moved a little way up the street, but never very far, and
gathering in small knots excitedly discussed the great event. It came
to be understood that the rest of the crew had been cast away on an
uninhabited island, it could be nothing else, and would doubtlessly
soon be with them; all except one or two perhaps, who were old men when
the ship sailed, and had probably died in the mean time. One said this
in the hearing of an old woman whose husband, if alive, would be in
extreme old age, but she smiled peacefully, albeit her lip trembled,
and said she only expected to hear of him, that was all.

The suspense became almost unendurable “Would this man never awake?
Would it never be dawn?” The children were chilled with the wind, but
their elders would scarcely have felt an Arctic frost. With growing
impatience they waited, glancing at times at two women who held
themselves somewhat aloof from the others; two women who had married
again, and whose second husbands waited, awkwardly enough, with them.

Slowly the weary windy night wore away, the old woman, deaf to their
appeals, still keeping her door fast. The dawn was not yet, though the
oft-consulted watches announced it near at hand. It was very close now,
and the watchers collected by the door. It was undeniable that things
were seen a little more distinctly. One could see better the grey,
eager faces of his neighbours.

They knocked upon the door, and the old woman’s eyes filled as she
opened it and saw those faces. Unasked and unchid they invaded the
cottage and crowded round the door.

“I will go up and fetch him,” said the old woman.

If each could have heard the beating of the other’s hearts, the noise
would have been deafening, but as it was there was complete silence,
except for some overwrought woman’s sob.

The old woman opened the door leading to the room above, and with the
slow, deliberate steps of age ascended the stairs, and those below
heard her calling softly to her son.

Two or three minutes passed and she was heard descending the stairs
again—alone. The smile, the pity, had left her face, and she seemed
dazed and strange.

“I cannot wake him,” she said piteously. “He sleeps so sound. He is
fatigued. I have shaken him, but, he still sleeps.”

As she stopped, and looked appealingly round, the other old woman took
her hand, and pressing it led her to a chair. Two of the men sprang
quickly up the stairs. They were absent but a short while, and then
they came down like men bewildered and distraught. No need to speak. A
low wail of utter misery rose from the women, and was caught up and
repeated by the crowd outside, for the only man who could have set
their hearts at rest had escaped the perils of the deep, and died
quietly in his bed.

THE END.
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