The Haunted Maintop – Fright Aboard An English Ship

1889

How a Talkative Parrot Frightened the Tars of An English Ship

Talking about ghosts, writes a correspondent of the Sheffield (Eng.) Telegraph, our chief mate once told me that on board a ship in which he once served the mate on duty ordered some of the youths to reef the maintop sail. When the first got up he heard a strange voice saying: "It blows hard!" The lad waited for no more; he was down in a trice and told his adventure. A second immediately ascended, laughing at the folly of his companion, but returned even more quickly, declaring he was quite sure that a voice not of this world had cried in his ear: "It blows hard!" Another went, and another, but each came back with the same tale.

At length the mate having sent up the whole watch, ran up the shrouds himself, and when he reached the haunted spot heard the dreadful words distinctly uttered in his ear:

"It blows hard!"

"Aye, aye. old one; but blow it ever so hard, we must ease the ear-rings for all that," replied the mate, undauntedly, and, looking round, he saw a line parrot perched on one of the clews — the thoughtless author of the false alarms — which had probably escaped from some other vessel to take refuge on this.

Another of our officers mentioned that on one of his voyages he remembered a boy having been sent to clear a rope which had got foul above the mizzentop. Presently, however, he came back trembling, and almost tumbling to the bottom, declaring that he had seen "Old Davy" aft the cross-trees. Moreover, that the evil one had a huge head and face, with prick-ears and eyes as bright as fire. Two or three others were sent up in succession, to all of whom the apparition glared forth, and was identified by each to be "Old Davy," sure enough.

The mate, in a rage, at length mounted himself, when resolutely, as in the former case, searching for the bugbear, he soon ascertained the innocent cause of so much terror to be a large horned owl, so lodged as to be out of sight to those who ascended on the other side of the vessel, but which, when any one approached the cross-trees, popped up his portentous visage to see what was coming. The mate brought him down in triumph, and "Old Davy," the owl, became a very peaceful shipmate among the crew, who were no longer scared by his horns and eyes, for sailors turn their back on nothing when they know what it is.

Had the birds in these two instances departed as they came, of course they would have been deemed supernatural visitants to the respective ships by all who had heard the one and seen the other.