儿童英语读物 The Ghost Ship Mystery CHAPTER 2 A Fire at Sea

Jessie had been reading for fifteen minutes. Her throat was dry, but she couldn’t stop. There were only a few pages left:



“In November 1869, there was still no sign of the Flying Cloud. Every day for two years, Emily Coffin 1 climbed the stairs of her house overlooking the sea. Each day she looked for her husband’s ship. Nothing appeared.



“Still, Emily Coffin kept her watch. On the sixth of November 1869, a great gale 2 roared in from the northeast. It pushed a ship straight toward the safety of Ragged 3 Cove 4.



“Emily Coffin was the first to spot the Flying Cloud on the horizon. She and the other townspeople ran out to the beach. Everyone watched nervously 5. Then, right before their eyes, the horror began. A huge gust 6 of wind broke the mast like a matchstick. In a few seconds, it toppled into the open sea.”



Jessie paused in her reading to look around the sitting room. Even the grown-ups sat on the edge of their seats. Violet and Benny sat up in their sleeping bags. They hugged their knees to their chests as tightly as they could.



“My goodness, girl!” a guest cried out from a corner of the sitting room. “Get on with the story before we die of suspense 7.”



Jessie went on. “Everyone on shore watched as the tall mast sank beneath the waves. Only its sail floated across the water like a sheet.



“One voice cried above the others: ‘To the ship! To the ship! We must row to the ship.’ ”



Jessie stopped to catch her breath as if she were one of the very people in the story.



“Keep reading, Jessie,” Benny begged. “What happened next?”



“The Flying Cloud tilted 8 sideways. Each gust of wind blew it toward the deadly rocks nearby. Someone on board sent flares 9 into the air, but the blinding rain blew them out.



“Eight of the strongest rowers in Ragged Cove jumped into a rowboat. With Emily Coffin shouting from shore, ‘Hurry! Hurry!’ the rowers tried to beat back the waves. The rain had stopped, but the wind was still strong. Alas 10, for every inch they gained, they were blown back onto the shore a few feet.



“It was hopeless,” Jessie read, her voice sad. “And nearly deadly. For one huge wave swamped the bobbing rowboat. All the men went overboard, and the rowboat sank.”



“Oh, no!” several listeners cried when Jessie got to this part.



“The men, strong swimmers all, made it back to shore. But there was no cheering. Everyone could see that the Flying Cloud was now in great danger. A minute later, a glow came from the broken ship as it drifted ever nearer to the deadly rocks.



“‘Look, they’re trying to signal us!’ someone onshore screamed. ‘But what can we do while these winds blow against us?’



“What could they do? The Flying Cloud was out of reach and listing badly. People talked about the danger of using fire with so much whale oil on board.



“Another roar went up in the crowd as a huge bonfire appeared over the water. The Flying Cloud was in flames!



“Someone cried: ‘It’s going down! It’s sinking!’



“‘Are they lowering the lifeboats?’ someone else asked.



“‘It’s impossible to see with all the smoke,’ another voice answered. ‘Let us hope and pray.’



“But their hopes and prayers did not help. The Flying Cloud disappeared beneath the waves. The horizon was empty again.



“The townspeople returned to their homes in grief. Only a few people were still at the beach when a young cabin boy named Caleb Plummer made it to shore hours later. He was in shock. He mumbled 11 about the ship being taken over by a sailor named Eli Hull 12. He died without finishing his story. No one knew what had happened to Captain Coffin or if there had been a mutiny.”



Benny tapped Jessie’s arm. “Jessie, what’s a mutiny?”



“That’s when the crew fights against the captain to take over the ship.”



“Oh, okay,” Benny whispered. “Now you can keep reading.”



So Jessie did.



“On stormy days and nights, some people claim to see lights flickering 13, out where the Flying Cloud went to its watery 14 grave. Some even say they see a rower on the waves who never reaches the shore. Others hear voices crying along the rocky coast, now called Howling Cliffs. But others say there are no lights, no rowers, no voices, only the sound of the dangerous sea.”



Jessie closed the book.



“Wasn’t anyone else found besides the young sailor?” Violet asked.



“No one,” answered Mr. Pease, who had just come in. “The ship burned too quickly.”



“Did wreckage 15 turn up?” Henry asked.



Mr. Pease shook his head. “A few months after the shipwreck 16 a sealed bottle washed up on the beach. Inside were some pages from Captain Coffin’s diary recording 17 all but his last few days. It’s a mystery that no one has ever figured out. There are stories about the captain forcing the ship to stay out at sea when it should have returned. And, of course, the sailor’s words about a mutiny. But no one really knows what happened.”



“What was in those diary pages?” Jessie asked.



Mr. Pease pushed back his own captain’s hat and shook his head. “No one knows for sure. You see, out of respect for the captain’s widow, Emily Coffin, the pages were turned over to her. She burned them before anyone got to read them. The rest of the diary was never found.”



Mrs. Pease, who had been listening from the doorway 18, spoke 19 to everyone in a soft voice. “Perhaps. Emily Coffin told her children her husband died a hero at sea.”



Jessie shivered when a blast of wind hit the Black Dog Inn. “It must have been so dangerous to be at sea if it was anything like tonight. How terrible that so little was saved from the ship.”



“Well,” Mr. Pease began, “there were a few things besides those pages that washed up— some carvings 20 on whalebone or whale ivory called scrimshaw.”



Violet’s face brightened. “Oh, yes, we’ve seen them in museums. Sailors used to carve them with pretty pictures during their long trips away.”



Mrs. Pease smiled. “You’ll see no prettier scrimshaw than the collection right here in Ragged Cove at the Sailors’ Museum. Perhaps you—”



Before Mrs. Pease could finish, Mr. Pease said to his wife, “Now, now. You know how Prudence 21 is.” Turning to the children he explained, “She’s the curator of the museum. Lately she only allows organized school groups to visit. She wouldn’t even let our own grandchildren stop in the last time they came to Ragged Cove.”



One of the guests nodded. “That woman doesn’t even want adult tourists. Thinks she owns the place, she does!” the woman complained. “Why I have a mind to complain to the town Visitors’ Bureau.”



Mr. Pease threw up his hands. “I know. I’ve tried to reason with Prudence. Told her more than once she’s going to lose funding for the museum one of these days if she keeps being so stingy with her hours.”



Violet looked disappointed. “Oh, dear. I had hoped to see some of those carvings.”



“Same here,” Henry agreed. “I like to carve things myself and thought I could learn a thing or two. I heard it’s the best sailing museum around. We Aldens like anything to do with boats.”



“Houseboats, rowboats, sailboats, all boats!” Benny added.



Mr. Pease gave Benny a friendly cuff 22 on the shoulder. “When this mean storm gets tired out, I know Bob Hull will give you a ride on his whale watch boat. That’s something you won’t forget in a hurry. It may be a few days, though. There’ll be major cleaning up to do after this storm—no doubt about that.”



“Maybe a treasure from the Flying Cloud will wash up onshore, and we’ll find it!” Benny declared.



“We know you will!” one guest said with a laugh.



Mr. Pease turned to Benny. “You’ll find a thing or two for sure, my boy. Maybe not from the Flying Cloud, of course. But every storm sends in some surprise.”



Unlike Benny, Jessie wasn’t thinking about surprises. She just couldn’t get the Flying Cloud out of her mind. “I do wish we knew what was written on those pages that Emily Coffin burned.”



Mrs. Pease went over to the bookcase next to the fireplace. She pulled down an old gray book and handed it to Jessie. “Maybe you’ll get an idea from this.”



“What is it?” Jessie asked.



“A much longer book about the Flying Cloud.”



Jessie opened to the title page. In beautiful old-fashioned letters it said: The True Story of the Flying Cloud by Prudence Coffin. “The museum curator wrote this?” Jessie asked.



“Yes. Prudence Coffin is the great-granddaughter of Captain Jeremiah Coffin and Emily Coffin,” Mrs. Pease explained. “She wrote this account of the Flying Cloud, based on her great-grandmother’s family stories, which were passed down.”



“Humph!” one of the guests said. “And my father is King Neptune 23!”



Benny’s eyes were like big blue saucers. “He is? Really?”



Even Violet laughed at this. “Not really, Benny. She’s exaggerating.”



“Not half as much as that Miss Coffin,” the woman went on. “She thinks the Coffins 24 are the only family worth anything in these parts. She claims my ancestor, Eli Hull, led a mutiny against Captain Coffin! And now she’s going around saying that my great-nephew, Bob Hull, is no better than a pirate! She’s trying to ruin his whale watch business with her stories.”



“There, there, Miss Blue,” Mrs. Pease said to calm down the woman before she spoiled the evening. “Here, have another johnnycake and cup of tea.”



Mrs. Pease’s delicious “Bennycakes” worked their magic and quieted the woman. The Aldens, though, were more curious than ever. What was the real story of the Flying Cloud?