A Quick Ghost Story

The Journeyman’s Jewel

Once there was a journeyman who wandered the roads near Halifax, doing the odd work of the wives whose husbands were at sea. He was a lean sort, yet had enough muscle on him to do most jobs, and so when he was seen coming down the road the sight was much welcome.

In his pack, the journeyman had a jewel that he let no one else see. It was not a very big jewel. It was green, only about the size of a big man’s thumb, and the journeyman kept it wrapped in a white cloth in the bottom of his bag. It had been a gift from the captain of a schooner to Africa, as grateful payment for when the journeyman had saved his wife from a rowdy bunch intent on harm. He had taken the jewel from the captain and now held it as a treasured possession.

One day, as the journeyman walked down the road, he met another man. This man was a thinner man than he, reminiscent of a young sapling in a grove of great oaks. Being an amiable person, the journeyman walked with him. They chatted for a while. The journeyman found that the other man’s name was Jonathan Falcon, and that he had come from south of the border, originally from New York. He was wandering about, seeking what he might be able to see in the wide world.

When they came to an inn, the journeyman offered to pay for Falcon to spend the night there with him. Falcon at first refused, saying that he could not take the money of one who so needed it himself. But the journeyman insisted, and at last Falcon did accept the offer, and they entered the inn together.

The room did not cost much, and the food and drink were good. Soon the bellies of the journeyman and Falcon were both full, and they sat by the fire as the air began to chill with the coming of the night. A few other travelers were there as well as those for whom the inn was the accustomed gathering place. Soon all there were engaged in telling tales that either they had seen themselves, or that had been relayed to them by a friend as a friend had relayed it to them.

For the most part these were tales of the ocean, of ships that had gone to far distant ports in Indo-China or the South Seas or had vanished without a trace in the dark corners of the earth. While all had been heard before by most of those assembled, the tellers were able to add their own unique spices to them, and so the tales seemed to be rather new.

After one old codger had told a particularly chilling tale, the attention seemed to shift slightly to Falcon. He had lit a pipe, and the smoke had begun to curl up around his face, giving him an odd mystique in the firelight.

“I heard something while I was passing through Providence,” he said in a matter-of-fact way. “Some first mate with blood half full of salt told it to me, though he was a bit drunk when he said it.”

A few of the others leaned in a little, readying themselves for the beginning of a new tale. Falcon saw that his audience was at least mildly interested, so he drew in on his pipe and blew out one more time, adding to the atmosphere before he went on.

“He said that he knew a captain once, who sailed out from the Ivory Coast on a couple of voyages. The last time, his crew happened upon an old witch doctor who had a leopard skull with a green jewel set in it. Well, the crew happened to like that jewel, and wondered why the witch doctor had need of it. So they went on over and broke the skull to get the jewel, and when he put up a fuss, they buried a knife in his neck.

“Now when the captain heard of this, he had the jewel recovered from the crew. They sailed on home without anything more happening, and the captain kept the jewel for himself. His next voyage out, down to Brazil and those regions, he had a new crew. This first mate was one of that crew, or so he said.

“As he told it to me, the voyage was strange from the start. There was always this dry feeling, not the drying out that the salt of the sea brings, but rather the dry of a grassland without rain. And he told me that there is a difference.”

Several of the older men of the sea nodded at this knowingly, as if to confirm that which Falcon said. The man from New York smiled, happy that his story had a bit of vindication from those learned in the lore of the sea.

“There were also strange noises that could be heard over the waves,” he continued. “It seemed as though one could hear grass rustling, or the soft growl of a distant animal, on the nights when the moon shone bright in the sky. A few of the mulattos were having bad feelings all around. The man told me that he had a negro beneath him called Neetch who hailed from Florida that said it felt like the air around a voodoo shaman’s dwelling, though he didn’t say anything more about that.

“The captain also seemed to be different, so I was told. He had a worn and haggard look upon his face that he had not had before. At all times he strove to be in the company of others, and the mate said he saw him sweat if he thought that he might be alone. When the mate asked him about it, he told me the captain simply said it was a strange bout of seasickness that had come over him and that he would recover from it soon.

“Well, one night when they were just off the coast, drawing close to Rio de Janeiro, the air grew very still and dry. The ship drifted in the current, and most of the hands were worried that it might drift onto a shoal or hidden bar. But the men who came from shadowed lands held their various charms and mumbled strange prayers.

“Suddenly, there was a loud roar from within the ship, and the cry of a dying man. All were instantly filled with fear, and did not know what had happened. Then someone noticed that the captain was missing.

“So the mates went to his quarters straightaway. When the first mate, the man who told me this story, laid his hand upon the door to knock, he said he felt the presence of something just beyond the wood. He asked the other mates to feel the door, to make sure that he was not alone in what he was feeling. The others felt the same thing.

“When the captain did not answer to their calls, they opened the door. Almost immediately they shut it, for within they had glimpsed two green orbs glowing in the darkness, and the sight moved them to fright. They waited for a few moments, trying to recover their courage. When they were sufficiently ready, they opened the door again. The green orbs were gone, and what they were the mate did not care to guess at. They struck a light in the darkness, and found the captain strewn upon the cabin floor, his throat torn out as though a wild animal had attacked him.

“The first mate said that he and the others covered the body, and told the rest of the crew that the captain had succumbed to some sudden sickness. They gave him a burial at sea the next morning, taking great care to not let the men see what had happened to him, for fear that they would take it as some evil portent and demand to turn back home.

“The rest of the voyage went well enough, and they returned without anything else ill happening. But that first mate said he heard of stories in the intervening years about men from that second African voyage who met fates similar to the captains. Those who told the stories, either men who had sailed with them or men who had known men who sailed with them, always spoke about the occurrences in hushed tones. The last thing he told me was that the last he heard, not one man from that second voyage was still alive. Though he was drunk when he told me it.”

Falcon finished and took another draw from his pipe. One of the old codgers spoke up and said that he had also heard whispers of something similar, though he had heard that the captain’s final voyage was to Cathay. Someone else spoke up and asked what had become of the jewel.

“I do not know,” Falcon said. “The man who told me the story didn’t know either. He only heard the story about it after the captain met his fate. He did tell me that there was no evidence of it in the captain’s effects aboard ship. He thought that perhaps the captain had left it at home. Felt sorry for the poor chap that would get it next.”

The journeyman listened to the story with the other travelers, and something tugged at the back of his mind. He remembered the wife of the captain that had given him his particular jewel, and how when he had come around next, she was moving out to Calgary, where her brother lived. She had said her husband had died at sea from a sudden illness, and that there was no longer any reason to stay here at Halifax. The journeyman had helped her load a wagon with her possessions, wished her luck in Calgary, and thought nothing of it. But now, he wondered about where the jewel had come from, and it formed a blister of sorts in his mind.

The tales went on for a little longer, as the fire died down and the cold crept in a little more. At last, the innkeeper came and said that it was time for the travelers to seek their beds, and for the others to find their ways home. So all parted ways. The locals bundled up and trundled off to their own familiar dwelling places. The travelers, the journeyman and Falcon included, retired to their rooms.

Falcon went to sleep without problem, turning over and breathing lightly in the soothing grip of rest. But the journeyman lay awake for a time. He would either look up at the ceiling, straining to see the grain of the wooden beams in the darkness, or would look over at his pack and think of what lay wrapped in white cloth in the bottom. Over and over again he told himself that it was some strange coincidence, that the captain had simply succumbed to some sickness and that there was no latent evil upon the jewel. Yet there was still doubt in his mind.

At the early hours of the morning, when most men are safe in slumber, the journeyman was still awake. He tried to fall asleep, at long last. But he became aware of a sudden thirst upon him. As he got to his feet to find a bit of water, he realized that the room was dry. A chill passed over him, and he turned his gaze to his pack.

There was a rustling outside the window, as though a great body was moving through blades of grass. A soft growling noise soon became evident. The journeyman stood motionless in the middle of the room, between the window and his pack, his eyes locked on the wall ahead of him. His mind raced and he prayed to God that he was simply imagining things.

But the growling was still there. And the journeyman swallowed what little bit of spittle remained in his mouth as he listened to it. Cold fear gripped him. The growling continued, and as it did it slowly grew louder and louder, as though whatever great beast made it was slowly drawing nearer to the window. The journeyman tried to hold himself together and fight the fear he was feeling grip his heart. But the growling grew louder and louder still, until it seemed as though it was right beneath the window. Then the journeyman could take it no longer. He rushed across the room, took hold of his pack, and rushed back across the room to the window. He threw it open and hurled it out into the darkness, throwing himself back after he had done it. The growling died away, and the grass stopped rustling, and the dry feeling of the air was gone. At that, the journeyman passed out from sheer shock.

When he awoke next, Falcon was kneeling over him, gently shaking his shoulder. The journeyman cried out in fright and drew away from him. The man from New York asked him what had happened to him. The journeyman composed himself as best he could, then told Falcon what had occurred over the night. Falcon was skeptical, and bade the journeyman come with him to the window and look outside. The other man was somewhat fearful, but his companion’s gentle prodding soon encouraged him and they both looked out the window.

But when they did so, they were met with a surprise. The journeyman’s pack was all torn to pieces and scattered hither and yon. But very plain to see, right in front of the window, was the white cloth spread wide open and the jewel nowhere in sight.

Falcon was at a loss for words. He suggested that perhaps thieves had looted the journeyman’s belongings. But the other man shook his head and stuck to what he said he had heard the night before. The man from New York accepted this, and said that he would help the journeyman gather his belongings together. The journeyman was grateful for his help, and they went out together to retrieve everything. But when they got out there, they saw that there were great tracks in the dirt all around the journeyman’s belongings. They appeared to belong to a cat, though the size of the cat would have had to be extremely immense.

When Falcon saw this, his face grew a shade whiter and he was silent for a small time, as he helped the journeyman gather everything as best they could. When they were done, he asked the journeyman why this would have happened. So he told Falcon about the jewel he had kept. When Falcon heard this, he declared that heaven seemed to be watching out for the journeyman. The journeyman agreed, and that same day set out for Halifax. When he arrived, he found a chapel and there prayed for two hours straight. When he was through, the journeyman gave to the preacher most of his money, and said to spend it on poor sailors before setting back out on the road.

*This story, and all sections thereof, are created by and are the property of Conrad Rice.