and it
was as hard as a real ship. "Now, there's folks in England would call
that very curious," he said.

Now, I don't know much about ships, but I should think that that
ghost-ship weighed a solid two hundred tons, and it seemed to me that
she had come to stay; so that I felt sorry for landlord, who was a
married man. "All the horses in Fairfield won't move her out of my
turnips," he said, frowning at her.

Just then we heard a noise on her deck, and we looked up and saw that a
man had come out of her front cabin and was looking down at us very
peaceably. He was dressed in a black uniform set off with rusty gold
lace, and he had a great cutlass by his side in a brass sheath. "I'm
Captain Bartholomew Roberts," he said in a gentleman's voice, "put in
for recruits. I seem to have brought her rather far up the harbor."

"Harbor!" cried landlord. "Why, you're fifty miles from the sea!"

Captain Roberts didn't turn a hair. "So much as that, is it?" he said
coolly. "Well, it's of no consequence."

Landlord was a bit upset at this. "I don't want to be unneighborly," he
said, "but I wish you hadn't brought your ship into my field. You see,
my wife sets great store on these turnips."

The captain took a pinch of snuff out of a fine gold box that he pulled
out of his pocket, and dusted his fingers with a silk handkerchief in a
very genteel fashion. "I'm only here for a few months," he said, "but
if a testimony of my esteem would pacify your good lady, I should be
content," and with the words he loosed a great gold brooch from the neck
of his coat and tossed it down to landlord.

Landlord blushed as red as a strawberry. "I'm not denying she's fond of
jewelry," he said; "but it's too much for half a sackful of turnips."
Indeed it was a handsome brooch.

The captain laughed. "Tut, man!" he said, "it's a forced sale, and you
deserve a good price. Say no more about it," and nodding good day to us,
he turned on his heel and went into the cabin. Landlord walked back up
the lane like a man with a weight off his mind. "That tempest has blowed
me a bit of luck," he said; "the missus will be main pleased with that
brooch. It's better than blacksmith's guinea any day."

'97 was Jubilee year--the year of the second Jubilee, you remember, and
we had great doings at Fairfield, so that we hadn't much time to bother
about the ghost-ship, though, anyhow, it isn't our way to meddle in
things that don't concern us. Landlord he saw his ten