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Some time in the year 1800 or 1801, I am not
certain which, a man of the name of William Morgan—
I don't mean the person whose “abduction”
has made so much noise in the world—enlisted on
board the United States frigate — for a three
years' cruise in the Mediterranean. He was an
awful-looking person, six feet four inches high; a
long pale visage deeply furrowed with wrinkles;
sunken eyes far up towards his forehead; black
exuberant hair standing on end as if he was always
frightened at something; a sharp chin of a length
proportioned to his height; teeth white, but very
irregular; and the colour of his eyes what the
writers on supernatural affairs call very singular
and mysterious. Besides this, his voice was hollow
and sepulchral; on his right arm were engraved
certain mysterious devices, surmounted with the letters
E. M.; and his tobacco box was of iron. His
everyday dress was a canvass hat with a black
riband band, a blue jacket, white trousers, and
leather shoes. On Sundays he wore a white
beaver, which, among sailors, bespoke something
extraordinary, and on rainy days a pea jacket too

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short by half a yard. It is worthy of remark that
Morgan entered on Friday; that the frigate was
launched on Friday; that the master carpenter who
built her was born on Friday; and that the squadron
went to sea on Friday. All these singular
coincidences, combined with his mysterious appearance,
caused the sailors to look upon Morgan
with some little degree of wonder.

During the voyage to Gibraltar, Morgan's conduct
served to increase the impression his appearance
had made on the crew. He sometimes went
without eating for several days together, at least
no one ever saw him eat; and, if he ever slept at
all, it was without shutting his eyes or lying down,
for his messmates, one and all, swore that, wake at
what time of the night they would, Morgan was seen
sitting upright in his hammock, with his eyes glaring
wide open. When his turn came to take his
watch upon deck, his conduct was equally strange.
He would stand stock still in one place, gazing at
the stars, or the ocean, apparently unconscious of
his situation; and when roused by his companions,
tumble on the deck in a swoon. When he revived,
he would fall to preaching the most strange and
incomprehensible rhapsodies that ever were heard.
In their idle hours upon the forecastle, Morgan
told such stories about himself, and his strange
escapes by sea and land, as caused the sailors' hair
to stand on end, and made the jolly fellows look
upon him as a person gifted with the privilege of
living for ever. He often indeed hinted that he

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had as many lives as a cat, and several times
offered to let himself be hanged for the gratification
of his messmates. On more than one occasion,
he was found lying on his back in his hammock,
apparently without life, his eyes fixed and
glassy, his limbs stiff and rigid, his lower jaw sunk
down, and his pulse motionless, at least so his
messmates swore when they went to call the doctor;
though when the latter came he always found
Morgan as well as ever he was in his life, and apparently
unconscious of all that had happened.

As they proceeded on the voyage, which proved
for the most part a succession of calms, the sailors,
having little else to do, either imagined or invented
new wonders about Morgan. At one time a little
Welsh foretopman swore that as he was going to
sit down to dinner, his canteen was snatched from
under him by an invisible hand, and he fell plump
on the deck. A second had his allowance of grog
“abducted” in a mysterious manner, although he
was ready to make oath he never had his eyes off
it for a moment. A third had his tobacco box rifled,
though it had never been out of his pocket.
A fourth had a crooked sixpence, with a hole by
which it was suspended from his neck by a riband,
taken away without his ever being the wiser for it.

These things at length reached the ears of Captain
R—, who, the next time Morgan got into one
of his trances, had him confined for four-and-twenty
hours; and otherwise punished him in various
ways on the recurrence of any one of these

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wonderful reports. All this produced no effect whatever
either on Morgan or the crew, which at length had
its wonder stretched to the utmost bounds by a singular
adventure of our hero.

One day, the squadron being about halfway
across the Atlantic, and the frigate several leagues
ahead with a fine breeze, there was an alarm of the
magazine being on fire. Morgan was just coming
on deck with a spoon in his hand, for some purpose
or other, when hearing the cry of “magazine on
fire,” he made one spring overboard. The fire was
extinguished by the daring gallantry of an officer,
now living, and standing in the first rank of our
naval heroes. In the confusion and alarm, it was
impossible to make any efforts to save Morgan;
and it was considered a matter of course that he
had perished in the ocean. Two days after, one
of the other vessels of the squadron came alongside
the frigate, and sent a boat on board with Billy
Morgan. Twelve hours from the time of his leaping
overboard, he had been found swimming away
gallantly, with the spoon in his hand. When asked
why he did not let it go, he replied that he kept it
to help himself to salt water when he was dry.
This adventure fixed in the minds of the sailors an
obstinate opinion, that Morgan was either a dead
man come to life again, or one that was not very
easy to be killed.

After this, Morgan continued his mysterious
pranks. The sailors talked and wondered, and
Captain R— punished him, until the squadron

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was within two or three days' sail of Gibraltar, admitting
the wind continued fair as it then was.
Morgan had been punished pretty severely that
morning for stargazing and falling into a swoon on
his watch the night before, and had solemnly assured
his messmates, that he intended to jump overboard
and drown himself the first opportunity. He
made his will, dressed himself in his best, and settled
all his affairs. He also replenished his tobacco
box, put his allowance of biscuit in his pocket,
and filled a small canteen with water, which he
strung about his neck; saying that perhaps he
might take it into his head to live a day or two in
the water, before he finally went to the bottom.

Between twelve and one, the vessel being becalmed,
the night a clear starlight, and the sentinels
pacing their rounds, Morgan was distinctly
seen to come up through the hatchway, walk forward,
climb the bulwark, and let himself drop into
the sea. A midshipman and two seamen testified
to the facts; and Morgan being missing the next
morning, there was no doubt of his having committed
suicide by drowning himself. This affair occasioned
much talk, and various were the opinions
of the ship's crew on the subject. Some swore it
was one Davy Jones who had been playing his
pranks; others that it was no man, but a ghost or a
devil that had got among them; and others were in
daily expectation of seeing him come on board
again, as much alive as ever he was.

In the mean time, the squadron proceeded but

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slowly, being detained several days by calms and
head winds, most of which were in some way or
other laid to Billy Morgan by the gallant tars, who
fear nothing but Fridays and men without heads.
His fate, however, gradually ceased to be a subject
of discussion, and the wonder was quickly passing
away, when one night, about a week after his jumping
overboard, the figure of Morgan, all pale and
ghastly, his clothes hanging wet about him—with
eyes more sunken, hair more upright, and face
more thin and cadaverous than ever, was seen by
one of his messmates, who happened to be lying
awake, to emerge slowly from the forepart of the
ship, approach one of the tables where there was a
can of water, from which it took a hearty draught,
and disappear in the direction whence it came.
The sailor told the story next morning, but as yet
very few believed him.

The next night the same figure appeared, and
was seen by a different person from him by whom
it was first observed. It came from the same quarter
again, helped itself to a drink, and disappeared
in the same direction it had done before. The story
of Morgan's ghost, in the course of a day or two,
came to the ears of Captain R—, who caused a
search to be made in that part of the vessel whence
the ghost had come; under the impression that the
jumping overboard of Morgan had been a deception,
and that he was now secreted on board the
ship. The search ended, however, without any discovery.
The calms and head winds still

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continued, and not a sailor on board but ascribed them
to Billy Morgan's mysterious influence. The ghost
made its appearance again the following night after
the search, when it was seen, by another of
Morgan's messmates, to empty his tobacco box, and
seize some of the fragments of supper, which had
been accidentally left on a table, with which it again
vanished in the manner before described. The
sailor swore that when the ghost made free with
his tobacco box, he attempted to lay hold of him, but
felt nothing in his hand, except something exactly
like cold water.

Captain R— was excessively provoked at
these stories, and caused another and still more
thorough search to be made, but without any discovery.
He then directed a young midshipman to
keep watch between decks. That night the ghost
again made its appearance, and the courageous
young officer sallied out upon it; but the figure
darted away with inconceivable velocity, and disappeared.
The midshipman, as directed, immediately
informed Captain R—, who instituted an
immediate search, but with as little success as before.
By this time there was not a sailor on board
that was not afraid of his shadow, and even the officers
began to be infected with a superstitious
dread. At length the squadron arrived at Gibraltar,
and came to in the bay of Algesiras, where the
ships remained some days waiting the arrival of
those they had come to relieve. About the usual
hour that night, the ghost of Billy Morgan again

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appeared to one of his messmates, offered him its
hand, and saying “Good-by, Tom,” disappeared
as usual.

It was a fortnight or more before the relief squadron
sailed up the Mediterranean, during which time
the crews of the ships were permitted to take their
turn to go on shore. On one of these occasions,
a messmate of Billy Morgan, named Tom Brown,
was passing through a tolerably dark lane in the
suburbs of Algesiras, when he heard a well-known
voice call out, “Tom, Tom, d—n your eyes,
don't you know your old messmate?” Tom knew
the voice, and looking round, recognised his old
messmate Morgan's ghost. But he had no inclination
to renew the acquaintance; he took to his
heels, and without looking behind him to see if the
ghost followed, ran to the boat where his companions
were waiting, and told the story as soon as he
could find breath for the purpose. This reached
the ear of Captain R—, who, being almost sure
of the existence of Morgan, applied to the governor
of the town, who caused search to be made everywhere
without effect. No one had ever seen such
a person. That very night the ghost made its appearance
on board the frigate, and passed its cold
wet hand over the face of Tom Brown, to whom
Morgan had left his watch and chest of clothes.
The poor fellow bawled out lustily; but before
any pursuit could be made, the ghost had disappeared
in the forward part of the ship as usual.
After this Billy again appeared two or three times

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alternately to some one of his old messmates;
sometimes in the town, at others on board the
frigate, but always in the dead of night. He
seemed desirous to say something particular, but
could never succeed in getting any of the sailors
to listen quietly to the communication. The
last time he made his appearance at Algesiras, on
board the frigate, he was heard by one of the sailors
to utter, in a low hollow whisper, “You shall
see me at Malta;” after which he vanished as before.

Captain R— was excessively perplexed at
these strange and unaccountable visitations, and
instituted every possible inquiry into the circumstances
in the hope of finding some clew to explain
the mystery. He again caused the ship to be examined
with a view to the discovery either of the
place where Morgan secreted himself, or the means
by which he escaped from the vessel. He questioned
every man on board, and threatened the severest
punishment, should he ever discover that
they deceived him in their story, or were accomplices
in the escape of Morgan. He even removed
everything in the forward part of the ship, and rendered
it impossible for any human being to be
there without being detected. The whole resulted
in leaving the affair involved in complete mystery,
and the squadron proceeded up the Mediterranean,
to cruise along the African coast, and rendezvous
at Malta.

It was some weeks before the frigate came to

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the latter place, and in the mean time, as nothing
had been seen of the ghost, it was concluded that
the shade of Billy Morgan was appeased, or rather
the whole affair had been gradually forgotten. Two
nights after her arrival, a party of sailors, being
ashore at La Vallette, accidentally entered a small
tavern in a remote part of the suburbs, where they
commenced a frolic, after the manner of those amphibious
bipeds. Among them was the heir of
Billy Morgan, who about three or four in the morning
went to bed, not quite as clear headed as he
might have been. He could not tell how long he
had been asleep, when he was awakened by a
voice whispering in his ear, “Tom, Tom, wake
up!” On opening his eyes, he beheld, by the pale
light of the morning, the ghastly figure of Billy
Morgan leaning over his bed and glaring at him
with eyes like saucers. Tom cried, “Murder!
ghost! Billy Morgan!” as loud as he could bawl,
until he roused the landlord, who came to know
what was the matter. Tom related the whole affair,
and inquired if he had seen anything of the figure
he described. Mine host utterly denied having
seen or ever heard of such a figure as Billy Morgan,
and so did all his family. The report was again
alive on board the frigate, that Billy Morgan's ghost
had taken the field once more. “Heaven and
earth!” cried Captain R—, “is Billy Morgan's
ghost come again? Shall I never get rid of this
infernal spectre, or whatever else it may be?”

Captain R— immediately ordered his barge,

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waited on the governor, explained the situation of
his crew, and begged his assistance in apprehending
the ghost of Billy Morgan, or Billy himself, as
the case might be. That night the governor caused
the strictest search to be made in every hole and
corner of the little town of La Vallette; but in
vain. No one had seen that remarkable being,
corporeal or spiritual; and the landlord of the house
where the spectre appeared, together with all his
family, utterly denied any knowledge of such a
person or thing. It is little to be wondered at, that
the search proved ineffectual, for that very night
Billy took a fancy to appear on board the frigate,
where he again accosted his old friend Tom, to
whom he had bequeathed all his goods and chattels.
But Tom had no mind for a confidential communication
with the ghost, and roared out so lustily, as
usual, that it glided away and disappeared as before,
without being intercepted in the confusion
which followed.

Captain R— was in despair; never was man
so persecuted by a ghost in this world before. The
ship's crew were in a state of terror and dismay,
insomuch that had an Algerine come across them
they might peradventure have surrendered at discretion.
They signed a round robin, drawn up by
one of Billy Morgan's old messmates, representing
to Captain R— the propriety of running the ship
ashore, and abandoning her entirely to the ghost,
which now appeared almost every night, sometimes
between decks, at others on the end of the bowsprit,

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and at others cutting capers on the yards and topgallant
mast. The story spread into the town of
La Vallette, and nothing was talked of but the ghost
of Billy Morgan, which now began to appear occasionally
to the sentinels of the fort, one of whom
had the courage to fire at it, by which he alarmed
the whole island and made matters ten times worse
than ever.

From Malta the squadron, after making a cruise
of a few weeks, proceeded to Syracuse, with the
intention of remaining some time. They were
obliged to perform a long quarantine; the ships
were strictly examined by the health officers, and
fumigated with brimstone, to the great satisfaction
of the crew of the frigate, who were in great hopes
this would drive away Billy Morgan's ghost. These
hopes were strengthened by their seeing no more
of that troublesome visiter during the whole time
the quarantine continued. The very next night
after the expiration of the quarantine, Billy again
visited his old messmate and heir Tom Brown, lank,
lean, and dripping wet, as usual, and after giving
him a rousing shake, whispered, “Hush, Tom; I
want to speak to you about my watch and chest of
clothes.” But Tom had no inclination to converse
with his old friend, and cried out “Murder” with
all his might; when the ghost vanished as before,
muttering, as Tom swore, “You bloody infernal
lubber.”

The reappearance of the ghost occasioned greater
consternation than ever among the crew of the good

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ship, and it required all the influence of severe punishments
to keep them from deserting on every
occasion. Poor Tom Brown, to whom the devoirs
of the spectre seemed most especially directed, left
off swearing and chewing tobacco, and dwindled to
a perfect shadow. He became very serious, and
spent almost all his leisure time in reading chapters
in the Bible or singing psalms. Captain R—
now ordered a constant watch all night between
decks, in hopes of detecting the intruder; but all
in vain, although there was hardly a night passed
without Tom's waking and crying out that the ghost
had just paid him a visit. It was, however, thought
very singular, and to afford additional proof of its
being a ghost, that on all these occasions, except
two, it was invisible to everybody but Tom Brown.

In addition to the vexation arising from this persevering
and diabolical persecution of Billy's ghost,
various other strange and unaccountable things
happened almost every day on board the frigate.
Tobacco boxes were emptied in the most mysterious
manner, and in the dead of the night; sailors
would sometimes be missing a whole day, and return
again without being able to give any account
of themselves; and not a few of them were overtaken
with liquor, without their being ever the wiser
for it, for they all swore they had not drunk a drop
beyond their allowance. Sometimes, on going
ashore on leave for a limited time, the sailors would
be decoyed, as they solemnly assured the captain,
by some unaccountable influence into strange, out

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of the way places, where they could not find their
road back, and where they were found by their
officers in a state of mysterious stupefaction, though
not one had tasted a drop of liquor. On these
occasions, they always saw the ghost of Billy Morgan,
either flying through the air, or dancing on the
tops of the steeples, with a fiery tail like a comet.
Wonder grew upon wonder every day, until the
wonder transcended the bounds of human credulity.

At length, Tom Brown, the night after receiving
a visit from Billy Morgan's ghost, disappeared, and
was never heard of afterwards. As the chest of
clothes inherited from his deceased messmate was
found entirely empty, it might have been surmised
that Tom had deserted, had not a sailor, who was
on the watch, solemnly declared that he saw the
ghost of Billy Morgan jump overboard with him in
a flame of fire, and that he hissed like a red-hot
ploughshare in the water. After this bold feat, the
spectre appeared no more. The squadron remained
some time at Syracuse, and various adventures befell
the officers and crews, which those remaining
alive tell of to this day. How Macdonough, then a
madcap midshipman, “licked” the high constable
of the town; how Burroughs quizzed the governor;
what rows they kicked up at masquerades; what
a dust they raised among the antiquities; and
what wonders they whispered in the ear of Dionysius.
From thence, they again sailed on a cruise,
and after teaching the Bey of Tripoli a new way

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of paying tribute, and laying the foundation of that
structure of imperishable glory which shall one day
reach the highest heaven, returned home, after an
absence of between two and three years. The
crew of the frigate were paid off and discharged,
and it is on record, as a wonder, that their three
years' pay lasted some of them nearly three days.
But though we believe in the ghost of Billy Morgan,
we can scarcely credit this incredible wonder.
Certain it is, that not a man of them ever doubted
for a moment the reality of the spectre, or would
have hesitated to make oath of having seen it more
than once. Even Captain R— spoke of it on
his return, as one of those strange, inscrutable
things, which baffle the efforts of human ingenuity,
and seem to justify the most extraordinary relations
of past and present times. His understanding revolted
at the absurdity of a great part of the wonders
ascribed to Billy Morgan's ghost; but some
of the facts were so well attested, that a painful
doubt would often pass over his mind, and dispose
it to the reception of superstitious impressions.

He remained in this state of mixed skepticism
and credulity, when, some years after his return
from the Mediterranean, being on a journey to the
westward, he had occasion to halt at a log house, on
the borders of the Tennessee, for refreshment. A
man came forth to receive him, whom he at once
recognised as his old acquaintance, Billy Morgan.
“Heavens!” thought Captain R—, “here's Monsieur
Tonson come again!” Billy, who had also

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found out who his guest was, when too late to retreat,
looked rather sheepish, and invited him in
with little of the frank hospitality characteristic of a
genuine backwoodsman. Captain R— followed
him into the house, where he found a comely goodnatured
dame, and two or three yellow-haired boys
and girls, all in a fluster at the stranger. The
house had an air of comfort, and the mistress, by
her stirring activity, accompanied with smiling looks
withal, seemed pleased at the rare incident of a
stranger's entering their door.

Bill Morgan was at first rather shy and awkward.
But finding Captain R— treated him
with good-humoured frankness, he, in the course of
the evening, when the children were gone to bed,
and the wife busy in milking the cows, took occasion
to accost his old commander.

“Captain, I hope you don't mean to shoot me
for a deserter?”

“By no means,” said the captain, smiling; “there
would be little use in shooting a ghost, or a man
with as many lives as a cat.”

Billy Morgan smiled rather a melancholy smile.
“Ah! captain, you have not forgot the ghost, I see.
But it is a long time to remember an old score, and
I hope you'll forgive me.”

“On one condition I will,” replied Captain
R—; “that you tell me honestly how you managed
to make all my sailors believe they saw you,
night after night, on board the ship as well as on
shore.”

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“They did see me,” replied Billy, in his usual
sepulchral voice.

The captain began to be in some doubt whether
he was talking to Billy Morgan or his ghost.

“You don't pretend to say you were really on
board my vessel all the time?”

“No, not all the time, only at such times as the
sailors saw me—except previous to our arrival at
Gibraltar.”

“Then their seeing you jump overboard was all
a deception.”

“By no means, sir; I did jump overboard—but
then I climbed back again, directly after.”

“The deuse you did—explain.”

“I will, sir, as well as I am able. I was many
years among the Sandwich Islanders, where the vessel
in which I was a cabin boy was wrecked, a
long time ago, and I can pass whole hours, I believe
days, in the water, without being fatigued, except
for want of sleep. I have also got some of
their other habits, such as a great dislike to hard
work, and a liking for going where I will, and doing
just what I please. The discipline of a man-of-war
did not suit me at all, and I grew tired after
a few days. To pass the time, and to make fun
for myself with the sailors, I told them stories of
my adventures, and pretended that I could live in
the water, and had as many lives as a cat. Besides
this, as you know, I played them many other
pranks, partly for amusement, and partly from a
kind of pride I felt in making them believe I was

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half a wizard. The punishment you gave me,
though I own I deserved it, put me out of all patience,
and I made up my mind to desert the very
first opportunity. I had an old shipmate with me,
whom I could trust, and we planned the whole
thing together. I knew if I deserted at Gibraltar,
or any of the ports of the Mediterranean, I should
almost certainly be caught, and shot as an example;
and for this reason we settled that I should
jump overboard, return again, and hide myself in a
coil of cable which was stowed away between
decks, close to the bows, where it was dark even in
the daytime. My messmate procured a piece of
old canvass, with which I might cover myself if
necessary. To make my jumping overboard have
a greater effect on the crew, and to provide against
accidents until the ship arrived at Gibraltar, I took
care to fill my tobacco box with tobacco, my pockets
with biscuits, and to sling a canteen of water
round my neck, as I told them perhaps I might
take it into my head not to go to the bottom for two
or three days. I got Tom Brown to write my will,
intending to leave my watch and chest to my messmate,
who was to return them to me at Gibraltar,
the first chance he could get. But Tom played us
a trick, and put his own name in place of my
friend's. Neither he nor I were any great scholars,
and the trick was not found out till afterwards,
when my friend was afraid of discovery, if he
made any rout about the matter.”

“Who was your friend?” asked Captain R—.

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