Summary of “The Ghost-Ship” By Richard Middleton

In this story, the writer tells them about the ghostliest spot in London. The Fair field was a little
town lying near the Portsmouth Road about halfway between London and the sea. A stranger
discovers it occasionally, called it pretty and antiqued place; the people to live in it, calls home
does not find anything pretty about it, but ought too sorry to live anyplace else. He assumes
that their minds have taken the form of a hotel, church, and green. At, all events never feel
comfortable out of Fairfield. The citizens with their large houses, noisy streets if choosing it,
they can call it rural. The Fair field is a better place to live than in London. He had to live there
himself a little boy, but he knows better at this point. The delicate man may laugh on it. Some
of them originate from London way. He cannot think that witness is a well worth gallon of
competition.

They may consider all things stupid. The author ensures that he had tuned in to all the London
yarns have spun today around evening time; they are nothing to the things that occur at
Fairfield. There is a direct result of their perspective and staying out of other people's affairs.
Londoners set down on the green of a Saturday night; When ghosts boys died in the war. They
keep trying with girls lying in the churchyard. He was unable to help to be interested and
meddling; afterward, the ghost would turn away to a calmer place.

They just let them come and go and do not make any complaint, and in the outcome, Fairfield
is the ghostliest place in all England. He has seen a headless man sitting on the edge of the in
massive daylight hour, and the children playing about his feet as if he were their father. He
believes spirits know when they are wealthy as great deal as human beings.

He must concede that the thing he is going to tell about was strange even for their part of the
world, where three packs of ghost-hounds regularly hunt during the season, and Blacksmith's
great-grandfather is busy all night shoeing the dead gentlemen's horses. Now that is a thing
that would not happen in London because of their interfering ways, but Blacksmith lies up aloft
and sleeps as quiet as a lamb. Once when he had an awful head, he shouted down to them not
to make so much noise, and in the morning, he found an old guinea left on the Blacksmith's iron
as a statement of regret. Captain wears it on his watch-chain now. He must get on with the
story; if he starts telling about the strange happenings at Fairfield, he will never stop.

Everything happened to the extraordinary storm in the spring of '97, the year that they had two
incredible storms. This storm was the first one, and recall it very well because I found in the
morning that it had lifted the cover of pigsty into the widow's garden as spotless as a boy's kite.
When he investigated the fence, widow-Tom Lamport's widow was going for her nasturtiums
with a daisy-grubber, after he had watched her for a little, went down to the "Fox and Grapes"
to mention the Landlord, she had said to him.

He laughed, being a married man and quiet with the sex.

The storm has blown something into the Landlord's field.

There would be a kind of ship.

He was shocked at that until he clarified that it was only a ghost-ship and would do no damage
to the turnips. They discussed that it had explored from the sea at Portsmouth, and then they
talked of something else. There were two slates down at the parsonage and a big tree in
Lumley’s meadow. It was an uncommon storm.

He figures the breeze had blown our ghosts all over England. They were returning for days
while later with foundered horses and as footsore as possible, and they were so happy to
answer to Fairfield. Some of them walked up the street crying likes little youngsters. Assistant
said that his great-grandfather's great-grandfather had not looked so dead-beat since the battle
of Naseby, and he is an educated man.

What with one thing and another, he should think it was a week before they got straight again,
and then one afternoon, met the Landlord on the green; he had a stressed face. Landlord
wishes he would come and have a look at that ship in the field. It appears hard on the turnips.
He cannot endure about the missus will say when she sees it.

He walked the lane with him. There was a ship in the middle of his field, but such a ship as no
man had seen on the water for a long time, let alone in the middle of a turnip-field. It was
completed painted blacks and secured with carvings, and there was an extraordinary cove
window in the harsh for the entire world like the Squire's drawing-room. There was a crowd of
the little black gun on deck and watching out of her portholes. She was an anchor at each end
to the hard ground. He has seen the wonders of the world on picture-postcards, but he has
never seen anything to equal that.

The Landlord was in trouble when seeing the ship appears to be strong for a ghost. It is unsure
going to ruin fifty turnips, and misses will want to move it. They went up to ship and touched
the side; it was as hard as a real ship. People in England would call that very curious.

The author does not know much about ships, but he imagines ghost-ship gauged a big two
hundred tons, and he could not suspect that she had come to stay, so he felt frustrated for the
Landlord. All the horses in Fairfield will not move her out of his turnips.
They heard a noise on her deck, and they upward and saw that a man had come out of her first
lodge and was looking down on them very peaceably. He was dressed in a black uniform set out
with corroded gold lace, and he had a great cutlass by his side in a metal sheath. It was Captain
Bartholomew Roberts seems to have brought her rather far up the harbor landlord cried that
captain ship's fifty miles from the sea, but Captain Roberts did not turn a hair. He said that it is
of no result.

The Landlord was a bit upset and did not want to become in neighbor and want Captain had not
brought his ship into this field. His wife sets great store on these turnips.

The Captain took a pinch of snuff out from the beautiful gold box that he pulled out of his
pocket and cleaned his fingers with a silk handkerchief in a respectable manner. He was here
for a few months, but the event of declaration would pacify their good lady, so, he loosed
fabulous gold jewelry from the neck of his coat and threw it down to the Landlord.

Landlord blushed as red as a strawberry. His wife was fond of jewelry, but it is too much for half
a sacksful of turnips. Indeed, the jewelry was handsome.

The Captain laughed for forced sale and deserved him a reasonable price. Captain turned on his
heel and went into the cabin. Landlord walked back up the lane like a man with a load off his
mind. That storm has blown him a bit of luck. Lord missus will be much pleased with that
jewelry. It is better than Blacksmith's guinea.

Ninety-seven was Jubilee year, the year of the second Jubilee, they had great doings at Fairfield
so that they had not much time to bother about the ghost-ship through anyhow it is not their
way to interfering in things that do not concern them. The Landlord saw his inhabitant more
than one occasion when he was hoeing his turnips and breathed relaxed of the day; the
Landlord's wife wore her new brooch to church every Sunday. However, they did not mix with
the ghosts on time. Except for a foolish boy in the village, he did not know the difference
between a man and a spirit, poor innocent.

On the festival day, however, somebody told Captain Roberts why the church bells were
ringing, and he raised a flag and fired off his guns like a loyal Englishman. The firearms were
slotted, and one of the round shots knocked a hole in Farmer Johnston's barn, but nobody
thought much of that in it was not till our celebrations were over that they noticed that
anything was wrong Fairfield. Twas shoemaker who revealed him first about it one morning at
the “Fox and Grapes.” Shoemaker asked him what to know his great-great-uncle Joshua, the
quiet lad. He knew him well.
Joshua was coming home at three o'clock every morning as drunk as a magistrate and waking
up the whole house with noise. He knew him for one of the most respectable young ghosts in
the village. One of these nights, he will find himself out in the street if he is not careful.

This kind of talk shocked him. He can tell shoemaker he does not like to hear a man mishandling
his own family and hardly believe that a steady youngster like Joshua had taken to drink.
However, just then came butcher Aylwin in such a temper that he could scarcely drink his beer
and keep saying the young puppy. It was sometime before shoemaker, and he found out that
he was talking about his ancestor that fell at Senlac.

Shoemaker said hopefully they all like a company in our misfortunes, and butcher nodded
grimly, exhausted his mug.

He kept ears open, and it was the same story all over the village. There was hardly a young man
among all the ghosts of Fairfield who did not move home in the small hours of the morning the
awful for alcohol. He used to wake up in the night and hear them stumble past his house,
singing unbelievable tunes. The most awful of it was that they were unable to keep the scandal
to ourselves and the folk at Greenhill began to discuss “sodden Fairfield” and taught their
children to sing a song about them;

“Sodden Fairfield, sodden Fairfield, has no use for bread-and-butter, Rum for breakfast, Rum
for dinner, Rum for tea, and Rum for supper! “We are easy-going in our village, but we did not
like that.

They soon found out where the young fellows went to get the drink, and the Landlord cut up
that his tenant should have turned out so badly, but his wife would not hear of parting with the
jewelry so that he could not give the Captain notice to quit. However, as time went on, things
grew from awful to more awful, and at all hours of the day, they would see those young
reprobates sleeping it off on the village green. Nearly every afternoon, a ghost-wagon used to
shock down to the ship with a filling of Rum, and though the older ghosts seemed inclined to
give the Captain’s friendliness the pass-by, the youngsters were neither to hold nor to bind.

So one afternoon, when he was sleeping, he heard a knock at the door, and the Parson was
looking very serious, like a man with a job before him that he did not altogether relish. He
wants to go down to talk to the Captain about all this drunkenness in the village, and he needs
him to accompany him. He visits a lot, himself, and tried to insight to Parson that as, after all,
they were only a lot of ghosts, it did not very much matter.
"Dead or alive, Parson responsible for the good conduct, he going to do his duty and put a stop
to this continued disorder. John Simmons was coming with him. So he went with Parson being a
persuasive kind of man. They went down to the ship and approached her. They could see the
Captain tasting the air on deck. When he saw Parson, he very politely took off his hat and can
tell him that he was relieved to find that he had appropriate regard for the cloth. Parson
recognizes his salute and spoke out strongly. “He should be glad to have a word with him.”

He could tell by Captain's voice that he knew why we were there. Parson and climbed up an
uncomfortable ladder, and the Captain brought us into the great cabin at the back of the ship,
where the straight window was. It was the most beautiful place they ever saw in their life, all
loaded with full of gold and silver plate, swords with jeweled scabbards, carved oak chairs, and
high chests that look as though they were overflowing with guineas. Even Parson was shocked,
and he did not shake his head very hard when the Captain brought down some silver cups and
poured us out a drink of Rum. Simmon tasted his Rum, and he does not mind saying that it
changed his view of things entirely. There was nothing uncertain about that Rum and felt that it
was absurd to blame the boys for drinking too much of stuff like that. It seemed to fill veins
with honey and fire.

Parson put the case soundly to the Captain, but Simmon did not listen much, he was busy
sipping his drink and glance the window at the fishes swimming to and fro over Landlord's
turnips. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that they should be there, though
afterward, of course, he could see that that proved it was a ghost-ship.

However, even then, though, it was strange when he saw a drowned sailor float by in the thin
air with his hair and beard full of bubbles. It was the first time he had seen anything quite like
that at Fairfield. He was regarding the wonders of the deep Parson was telling Captain Roberts
how there was no peace or rest in the village owing to the curse of drunkenness, and what a
bad example the youngsters were setting to the older ghosts. The Captain listened very
attentively and only put in a word about boys being boys and young men like there is no
tomorrow. However, when Parson had finished his speech, he filled up our silver cups Parson
with a twist, “he should be sorry to cause trouble anywhere where he has been made welcome,
and they will be glad to hear that he put to sea tomorrow night. And now he must drink him a
prosperous voyage.” So we all stood up and drank the toast with honor, and that good Rum
was like hot oil in his veins.

After that Captain showed us some of the interests he had brought back from foreign parts, and
they were exceedingly amazed, though afterward, he could not clearly remember what they
were. He found himself walking the turnips with the Parson, and he was telling him of the
glories of the deep that he had seen through the window of the ship. Parson turned on him
severely and said he should go straight home to bed. He has a way of putting things that would
not occur to an ordinary man, has Parson, and did as he told him.

The next day it came on to blow, and it blew harder and harder, till about eight o’clock at night
Simmon heard a noise and looked out into the garden. He dares say he will not believe him, it
seems a bit tall even to him, but the wind had lifted the cover of pigsty into the widow's garden
a second time. Simmon could not wait to hear what widow had to say about it, so he went
across the green to the "Fox and Grapes," and the wind was so strong that he danced along on
tiptoe like a girl at the fair. When he got to the inn landlord had to help shut the door; it
seemed as though a dozen goats were pushing against it to come in out of the storm.

It is a mighty storm drawing the beer. There is a chimney down at Dickory End. “It’s a funny
thing about how these sailors know about the weather. The Captain said he was going tonight,
he was thinking it would take a capful of wind to carry the ship back to sea, but now here’s
more than a capful.”

According to the Landlord tonight he goes true enough, Captain treated him handsome over
the rent, and it is a loss to the village. He does not hold with generic ones that fetch their drink
from London instead of helping local traders get their living."

Simmon said; the Landlord has not got any rum-like him. His neck grew red above his collar, and
Simmon was afraid had gone too far, but after a while, he got his breath with a grunt. This
windy night to talk a lot of fool’s talk, he has wasted a journey.” the Landlord said.

Simmon had to smooth him down with praising his Rum, and Heaven forgives him for swearing
it was better than Captain. For the like of that Rum, no living lips have tasted save mine and
parsons. However, somehow or other, he brought Landlord round, and presently we must have
a glass of his best to prove its quality.

They both raised their glasses to mouths, only to stop halfway and look at each other
amazement. For the wind that had been howling outside as an outrageous dog had suddenly
turned as musical as the carol-boys of a Christmas Eve. Landlord whispered, Martha, being his
great-aunt that lived in the loft overhead.

They went to the door, and the wind burst it open so that the handle was driven clean into the
plaster of the wall. However, they did not think about that at the time; for over our heads,
sailing very comfortably through the windy stars, was the ship that had passed the summer in
the Landlord's field. Her portholes and bay-window were blazing with lights, and there was a
noise of singing and fiddling on her decks. "He has gone," shouted Landlord, and he has taken
half the village with him!” Simmon could only nod in answer, not having lungs like bellows of
leather.

In the morning, they were able to measure the strength of the storm, and over and above his
pigsty, there was damage enough wrought in the village to keep us busy. True, it is that the
children had to break down no branches for the firing that autumn since the wind had strewn
the woods with more than they could carry away. Many of our ghosts were scattered abroad,
but this time very few came back, all the young men having sailed with Captain, and not only
spirits, for a poor half-witted lad was missing. We reckoned that he had stowed himself away or
perhaps shipped as cabin-boy, not knowing any better.

With the lamentations of the ghost-girls and grumbling of families had lost an ancestor. The
village was upset for a while, and the funny thing was that it was the folk who had complained
most of the youngsters' carryings, who made most noise now that they were gone. He had no
sympathy with shoemaker or butcher, who ran about saying how much they missed their lads,
but it made grieve to hear the poor bereaved girls calling their lovers by name on the village
green nightfall. It did not seem fair that they should have lost their men a second time, after
giving up life to join them, as like as not. Still, not even a spirit can be sorry forever, and after a
few months, we made up our mind that the folk who had sailed in the ship were never coming
back, and they did not talk about it anymore.

And then one day, he dares say it would be a couple of years after, when the whole business
entirely was forgotten, who should come trapesing along the road from Portsmouth but the
foolish boy who had gone away with the ship, without waiting till he was dead to become a
ghost. Never saw such a boy as that in all life. He had a sizeable rusty cutlass hanging to a string
at his waist, and he was tattooed all over in beautiful colors so that even his face looked like a
girl's sampler. He had a handkerchief in his hand full of different shells and antique pieces of
little money, very curious, and he walked up to the well outside his mother's house and drew
himself a drink as if he had been nowhere in particular.
The worst of it was that he had come back as soft-headed as he went, and try as we might we
could not get anything reasonable out of him. He talked much gibberish about keel-hauling and
walking the plank and crimson murders — things a decent sailor should know nothing about so
that it seemed to that for all his manners, Captain had been more of a pirate than a gentleman
mariner. However, to draw sense out of that boy was as hard as picking cherries off a crab-tree.
One silly tale he had that he kept on drifting back to, and to hear him, would have thought that
it was the only thing that happened to him in his life. "We were at anchor," he would say, "off
an island called the Basket of Flowers, and the sailors had caught a lot of parrots and we were
teaching them to swear. Up and down the decks, up and down the decks and the language they
used were dreadful. Then we looked up and saw the masts of the Spanish ship outside the
harbor. Outside the harbor they were, so we threw the parrots into the sea and sailed out to
fight. And all the parrots were drowned in the sea and the language they used was dreadful."
That is the boy he was, nothing but silly talk of parrots when we asked him about the fighting.
Moreover, we never had a chance of teaching him better, for two days after he ran away again,
and has not since.

That is a story, and he assures him that things like that are happening at Fairfield all the time.
The ship has never come back, but somehow as people grow, they seem to think that one of
these windy nights will come sailing in over the hedges with all the lost ghosts on board. Well,
when she arrives, she will be welcome. There is one ghost-boy that has never grown tired of
waiting for her lad to return. Every night he will see her out on the green, straining her weak
eyes with looking for the mast-lights among the stars. Faithful boys do not call her,

Landlord's field was not a penny the worse for a visit, but they say that since then, the turnips
that have been grown in it have tasted Rum.