Page:Weird Tales Volume 13 Number 06 (1929-06).djvu/96

and a face as any man might ha' fancied. The cap'n—Beideman, his name was—the dirty lying dog—he took her away from me an' we fought for her, an' he won! I was near wild, I tells ye, lad. For I loved her, an’ he—he only wanted her for his evil purposes!

"Well, we was coming home under a good wind with all sail aloft, whipping it in easy after touching Montevideo on the coast of South America. Bedford was our next point of call. An' at Bedford—I had figgered it out—was where I'd leave the ship. With Naika, yo' understand. But I reckoned without consulting that fate that follows the sailor. Naika took down with a fever. She died, an' never once did that beast of a Beideman let me see her. We anchored off shore here."

Sailor Jack pointed to the east and resumed his tale.

"The cap'n detailed the five o' us to bury Naika on the beach. She'd made him promise her he'd give her a decent burial on land an' he meant to keep the promise. She knew the dead at sea never rested. For Naika was wise with the wisdom of women. They shrouded her body in a sheet and lowered it away into the bumboat and we pulled to shore. It was at 9 o'clock that we digged the grave. Before we buried her I swept back her shroud to see her face for the last time. I touched her eyelids and said a little prayer for the peace of her soul. I touched her little brown hands. I saw the ring on her finger. I drew back in surprize! The last link of her spirit with me, who really loved her, was gone! The ring I had given her was gone and in its stead was a ruby set about with green stones, the whole set in a gold band. I knew it was Beideman's ring. I wanted to snatch that ring from the finger but something held me back. The men of the crew, who watched me at my prayer, wanted me of the dreadful penalty that follows the robbing of the dead. So it was that we buried Naika, the beautiful, the beloved, on the sands of the beach behind a rotting hull of a ship's boat."

The storm was decreasing now. I had leaned forward under the strange spell of the old man’s words. His eyes were beginning to fill with tears. His breath became more labored.

"But she was never allowed a moment's rest from that night to this. Her soul, that she wanted buried in decent Christian ground, is desecrated by the terrible carousals of the crew of the brig Greta. For the Greta foundered that night, trying to draw off the shore. The crew was short on account of the fever Naika had spread among them and she went down before a single boat could be lowered. I was strong and I swam ashore, and was saved."

He grew silent then, and I feared to question him. It was so evident that his mind was filled with the memory of the burial of his beloved Naika. It was an almost unbelievable tale; I cast about in my own mind for reasons to doubt his story, but the crowding memories were so plain in his dim old eyes that I could do naught but believe.

"They will not let her spirit rest," cried Sailor Jack. He sprang to his feet and cast his aims upward and raised his head to stare at the ceiling. "They dance their fiendish dances over her grave at every dark of the moon. They drink their rum and sing their braggart songs above her grave and her spirit is never still! Beideman leads their drunken revels!"

I stepped to his side and helped him back to his chair.

"Forgive me," he said softly, his head bowed into his hands. “I forget myself when I think of Naika's soul that never rests."

I looked at my watch. It was after 8 o'clock.

"I think I'll try it back," I said to him. "The rain has stopped."

He rose and confronted me. "No," he answered, "you must go with me tonight to watch the dance of the