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CHAPTER 6: The Storm Brings a Strange Ship to Whitby

Mina Murray, Jonathan fiancee, was worried. He had been away for so long now, and had written her only a few times, which was very unlike him. Also unusual was the way hw had written - stiffly, formally, and in long hand, instead of the short hand he usually used.

He was probably just busy, she figured, and she try not to worried. Besides, Jonathan's last letter did state quiet clearly that he was well and would be returning in about a week. She couldn't wait to hear about his adventures in Transylvania.

In the meantime, today Mina would be distracted by a welcome visit from her good friend Lucy Westenra. Lucy had recently presented with not one but three marriage proposals, and she was eager to tell Mina all about it.

The first proposal was from a Dr. John Steward, a kind and smart man who managed a small lunatic asylum in a home in town, where he lived as well. She did not love him and so she had told him no.

The second proposal was from a very nice American from Texas, a Mr. Quincey P. Morris. perhaps because he was so jolly, it had been easier to reject Mr. Morris than Dr. Seward.

 The third proposal was from Mr. Arthur Holmwood. Tall, handsome, and curly-haired, and a longtime friend of the family, Mr. Holmwood had actually introduced Lucy to other two men. It was he, however, who had stolen her heart. His was the only proposal that she could accept.

To celebrate, and to plan the wedding, the women were going away on a little vacation. They could be staying in Whitby, an old whaling village, in a little inn with a view of harbor and the bay.

Whitby was a beautiful, gloomy old town. By the bay, part of an old cemetery on a cliff had slipped into the sea, leaving some of the headstones askew, like a sad scupture garden. Being somewhat dramatic in nature, Lucy was praticularly drawn the old cemetery. The two women sat there for hours, using one of the sideways - pushed the headstones as a seat, sometimes not even speaking, so content were they with their thoughts and their books.

Other times they would have company, in the form of occasional interesting town charater. Some of this people shared superstitious tales. If a bell rang, for example, they said it meant a ship was lost at sea. One old man, a Mr, Swales, would always scoff at such things dismissing them as silly ghost storries.

As their vacation progressed, however, instead of  relaxing, both women seemed to grow more stressed. To begin with, after the last of his three strangely and formal letters, there had been no further word from Jonathan. What's worse, contrary to what he had promised in his letters, he had not yet returned to London.

Lucy, too, was making Mina uneasy. She had reverted to her old childhood habit of sleepwalking. Mina forced herself to try to sleep lightly so that she would awaken at the sound of her friend wandering around and could gently lead Lucy back to her own bed.

Even the weather seemed to be growing worried. The local fishermen predicted they were in for a storm. Even ols Mr, Swales had to admit it. Pointing out to the sea one day, he shivered and said, "There is something in the wind that sounds, looks, and tastes like death."

Perhaps it was the strange ship out there, which many in the town had lately noticed, steering very curiously and changing course with every puff of wind.

The fishermen were right, and the storm that eventually came into Whitby was one of the greatest storms ever recorded. On the day the tempest swept into town, the sunset had been simply glorious, and most of the townspeople had come out to the cliffs to take in the splendid colors. All present also noticed the strange ship still out there entbor in the harbor and still flying full sails, which was extremely dangerous in the rapidly building wind.

Shortly after midnght a strange sound came from out over the sea. Whithout warning, the sky exploded. The waves rose furiously and turn the sea into a devouring monster. Masses of heavy sea fog came rolling inland. Wet white clouds danced like ghosts. Thunder boomed, lightning flashed, and the townspeople hunddled together and held their breath as, one by one, the boasts still at sea made it safely to port, to cheers.

Eventually, only the strange boat remained out there, sails still fully set. It now seemed in danger of missing the harbor entirely and splintering into pieces on the shrp reef just beyond. Then, miraculously, the wind shifted and the ship was blown into the harbor, driving itself violently up onto a sand barge but other wise remaining intact.

When the townspeople approached the ship the first thing they saw was a corpse, with the drooping head, its hands ties with ropes onto the helm, the stick that steered the ship. There was no other living soul on board. The ship had been steered by a deadman!

"What's that he's holding?" one of the townspeople asked. Someone hoped aboard to see. It was a crucifix, and from the shpe of the crucifix pressed into his hand the captain had been clutching it tightly.

Everyone gasped as an immense dog sprang up out of nowhere from belowdecks, jumped off the boat, and ran through the crowd and into the darkness toward the cemetery.