Happy birthday to Martha ... Reta Shaw was born on a Friday 13th as
well!  Sept. 1912, according to our sources!  (Wonder why the calendar
reminder didn't work?  Better check that ... or did I just miss seeing
it??)
 

Anyway, in honour of Martha's birthday, I offer this story, with
thanks to Kathy and Denise G. who told me my first attempt was yucky and
to try again (not in those words, of course ... <G>) but who hung in
there with me until it was completed, offering suggestions, GENTLE
criticisms, etc.  Thanks!
   Susan G.

                           "Martha's Musings"

   Martha smiled indulgently as she watched from behind the curtain
while Claymore and Mrs. Muir did that ridiculous act of dancing and
pretending to sing.  Ah, but it was for a good cause -- the new Seamen's
Home that Captain Gregg was wanting so desperately.  The Captain. 
Martha was still reeling from the shock of discovering that all those
stories she had been regaled with soon after arriving in Schooner Bay
were true.  Gull Cottage WAS haunted!  Even the time last month that she
had spent with her mother and sister and brother-in-law hadn't helped
her get over the astonishment.  Of course, she couldn't possibly have
said anything to THEM.  They wouldn't understand.  Martha wasn't even
sure SHE understood.
   Claymore had informed them that very first day that Gull Cottage was
haunted.  Martha had dismissed the notion instantly.  Normal people
don't see ghosts, and it had not taken long before she realized that
Claymore could not be considered ‘normal' by any stretch of the
imagination.  Naturally she had heard stories in town about the ghost
haunting the house and scaring away any who dared come near.  She had
heard about the bats flying out of the chimney, the moans and groans,
the thunderous shouts, and had noticed herself some strange happenings
that couldn't be explained -- like things from the attic suddenly
appearing downstairs or even out on the lawn!
   Martha had come home once and told Mrs. Muir about meeting a woman in
Ollie Wilkin's General Store who had been asked to come in to clean. 
"Mrs. Muir, she said that cleaning ladies had to leave because he
couldn't keep his ghostly hands from roving!  I suppose that simply
because he has quit this world doesn't mean he could be expected to quit
the habits of a lifetime.  He was a ... well, a ... lady's man in life,
so they say, and he supposedly hasn't changed that merely because he is
dead.  Although personally I would think that now he is a spirit, he
should have his mind set upon other matters than ... than carnal lust!" 
But Mrs. Muir and the children seemed so happy and, well, SETTLED in
Gull Cottage that Martha couldn't make herself believe the stories. 
After all, as Mrs. Muir had said so many times, Gull Cottage was an old
house.  All old houses have strange noises from time to time.  What with
broken sash-weights and latches, and sagging in the foundation, doors
and windows were bound to open and shut in the fierce gusts of wind that
sprang up out of nowhere.  Then, too, Gull Cottage was perched on a
cliff, with very few trees to protect it from the elements!  Except that
ghastly huge tree in the front which fortunately Mrs. Muir had had cut
down.  Strange how the feeling in the house had changed for a time after
that.  Only now did Martha appreciate the reason for that.  Captain
Gregg had planted that tree and loved it, and had been hurt and angered
when it was destroyed.  But Martha never dusted the mantel under his
portrait without commenting on the magnificent view from the window now
that the tree was gone.  And finally she understood the little rumble
that always followed her words.
   Even after almost a year of living in Gull Cottage, Martha had spoken
to Mrs. Muir about how she missed the night noises of Philadelphia, to
say nothing of the wild night life.  Here all she could count on was
hearing a couple of gulls fight.  Certainly there was no lack of those
noisy, screeching birds around the place.  But that was the only noise. 
Well, that and the constant crashing of the waves on the beach.  Still,
in comparison to the city noises, it was quiet in Schooner Bay!  She
remembered the startled look on Mrs. Muir's face after Martha had said
dourly once that Gull Cottage was as silent as a tomb after living in
Philly!  Mrs. Muir had quickly left the room, and laughed like a
madwoman, obviously thinking Martha couldn't hear her.  But what ELSE
was there to hear around this place?  Martha had given up trying to
decipher all the strange comments and actions of her employer, merely
laying the blame at the door of Mrs. Muir's profession.  Writers were
strange creatures, no doubt about it.  Even now knowing about the
Captain, Martha still found Mrs. Muir, darling that she was,
"different"!  There, look at her, trying valiantly to keep up to that
clod, Claymore.
   Yes, all in all, Martha was glad she was able to stay here in Gull
Cottage with Mrs. Muir and her children and Scruffy, and with the
ghost.  Once the townspeople had realized that the family in Gull
Cottage were not moving out, and weren't talking about being haunted by
the ghost of the Captain, they had begun to tell stories of Captain
Gregg's lifetime.  Martha had heard about his childhood, how he had gone
to sea at an early age, and had become a Captain as a young man.  She
had heard ad nauseam about his bravery, his strength, and many, many
stories about his reputation with the ladies.  Obviously he had had such
a strong desire for ... well, such a strong desire, that that desire had
passed on with him when he crossed to the afterlife.  If one were to
believe the ladies at Ollie's, that is, which Martha wasn't ready to do
at that time.  He was long gone, for heaven's sake!  Yet they still
talked about him as if he were present and accounted for?  Now, of
course, she knew the truth.  He WAS present!  And he was so good with
the children, especially Jonathan.  Witness how he helped them with the
magic act a few minutes ago.
   Martha smiled to herself as she caught a movement out of the corner
of her eye, and realized that he was standing by the curtain on the
other side, watching Claymore and Mrs. Muir with a grim look on his
face.  Suddenly Martha's musings were cut short as she realized that the
gramophone was sticking.  With a well-placed thump, she got the record
back on track ... and rolled her eyes as Claymore proceeded to drop Mrs.
Muir to the ground.  Martha noticed the Captain's fists clench, and he
made a movement towards the couple, but Mrs. Muir scrambled to her feet,
and was smiling and bowing, then running back behind the curtain.
   "Thank goodness that's over!" she said, smiling at Martha as she
tried to catch her breath.  "Remind me never to attempt dancing and
singing on stage again."
   "You did a FINE job, Mrs. Muir, considering we only had a chance to
rehearse once." Claymore spoke pompously.  "Next time ..."
   "There won't BE a next time, you miserable excuse for a man!" the
Captain growled, appearing beside them.
   Claymore yelped, and scrambled back out through the curtain to
announce that the show was over.
   "And NEXT time, I hope, you will dress a little more decorously!" the
Captain continued, glaring at Mrs. Muir.
   Martha raised an eyebrow, wondering how that comment would go over. 
She knew Mrs. Muir had almost balked at wearing the costume Claymore had
produced, but she simply had nothing else to wear on such short notice. 
Seeing Mrs. Muir's chin come up in that defiant, familiar way even as
she quickly adjusted the tight bodice of her dress yet again, Martha was
not at all surprised to hear her say firmly,
   "Captain, what I wear is MY business!  We have had this discussion
many times before.  This is perfectly respectable for what I was doing!"

   He was going to say something more, but the children burst into the
room, saying that everyone wanted to say good bye and thank you, and
that Mr. Peevey was outside wanting to talk to Martha.
   Martha hurried out.  Ed was off to one side, twisting his hat in his
hand.  "Yes, Ed?"
   "Oh, Martha, I ... well, I ... I just wanted to say that you were
mighty fine tonight.  Mighty fine." Ed's Adam's apple bobbed up and down
a few times, and he pulled at his tie and collar as if he were being
choked.
   "Thank you, Ed." she waited for more.  After all, he HAD given her
that pillow last month, and said he wanted to say something to her. 
Something mighty important, he had said.  Yet since she had returned
from Florida, he had said nothing.  Perhaps this was to be the night? 
Martha felt a little flutter of excitement.
   "Martha ..." again he paused.
   "Yes, Ed?" she could be very patient.
   "Mighty warm out tonight, isn't it?" he attempted to whistle but
couldn't quite manage it.  "Sure hope you sleep well."
   Martha blinked.  "Well, I DO have a lovely, comfortable pillow." she
said, dryly.
   Ed didn't seem to pick up on that.  "I'd stay to help clean up, but
you probably don't need the help.  Good night, Martha."
   "Ed ..." but he was gone.  Martha sighed.
   Gathering up some dishes on her way in, Martha joined the others in
the kitchen.  Claymore was attempting to leave before having to help
with the chores, but a stern look from the Captain had sent him
scurrying over to the sink which he was filling with hot water and
soap.  Martha thought he looked crazy with his hat on crooked and his
costume bunching up in some places and sagging in others.  Mrs. Muir
shooed the children upstairs to get ready for bed, and put the kettle on
for tea.  Looking at her lovely face, flushed with the success of the
evening, Martha sighed.  Mrs. Muir deserved some happiness out of life,
if anyone did!  Widowed at such a young age, with two children to
support, wanting to be independent of both her parents and her in-laws,
trying to pursue a chancy career like writing ...
   Martha's random thoughts suddenly froze as she remembered her
favourite story, "Maiden Voyage".  From whose brain had the idea for
THAT one come?  Perhaps ... perhaps the Captain had a hand in that?  To
be sure, it sounded more like him than Mrs. Muir.  Certainly not many of
her other stories were quite so ... deliciously racy.  Martha realized
there was without a doubt much more going on in Gull Cottage than she
had ever imagined.  As the Captain pointed more dishes into the sink,
purposefully splashing Claymore, she wondered how the Captain enjoyed
this new era ... with electricity, plumbing, hot water heaters and the
like in his house.
   "Captain?" Martha spoke up.  "I was just thinking about this kitchen
..."
   "It's a galley, Martha.  A GALLEY!  My pride and joy, this galley was
in its day."
   "Aye, aye, Captain.  But you didn't have running water or
electricity, did you?"
   "Of course not!"
   "So who renovated it?  And why did you let them?  I mean, I seem to
recall a big mess when we tried to fix it up."
   "Please don't remind me of that horrible, horrible time when *I* had
a houseguest!" Claymore moaned.
   "Oh, is THAT what you did?" Martha looked surprised.  "You just
decamped?  I guess that's one way to avoid any problems.  So you
actually stayed with Claymore?"
   Mrs. Muir laughed lightly.  "Yes, poor Claymore found that the
Captain descended upon him to find some peace and privacy."
   "That poor fraud of a Gregg ..." the Captain began.
   "Now listen here, I'm a real Gregg.  I AM!  At times I don't want to
be, just the way YOU don't want me to be, but I AM a Gregg!  I'm not a
fraud of a Gregg!" Claymore protested.
   "Just a fraud of a man!" muttered the Captain as he turned away. 
Martha realized he had skillfully evaded answering her question about
bringing the kitchen up to mid-twentieth century standards.
   Before another argument could ensue, the kettle boiled.  Mrs. Muir
offered Claymore a cup of tea, but he took himself off, sulkily.  She
had already said that in the morning she would count the money they had
taken in that evening.  Claymore had grumbled about that, since there
was nothing he liked better than counting money lest it was counting his
OWN money, but a growl from the Captain had made him close his mouth.
   As soon as Claymore was out the door, the Captain waved his hand, and
Martha and Mrs. Muir stood with open mouths as the dishes cleaned
themselves and flew into the cupboards.
   "There!" he said in satisfaction.  "Everything is ship shape and
Bristol fashion!  And I now feel as if I had a hand in this evening.  I
bid you good night, ladies.  And Mrs. Muir, once more, you have my
heartfelt gratitude for what you have done tonight.  And," he paused
briefly, running his eyes once more over her slim, costumed figure, "you
DO look lovely in that dress.  It is simply that it is NOT a costume to
be worn for other men to ogle at."
   "Just you?" Martha asked daringly, when Mrs. Muir remained silent.
   The Captain frowned mightily at her.  "I am not a man!" and he was
gone.
   "I keep forgetting that.  He's so ... so overwhelming." Martha
confessed to her employer.
   "Hmm, he is that." Mrs. Muir agreed.  Her colour was still a little
high, and she quickly changed the subject. "Well, I'm off to bed.  You
were wonderful with your song, Martha.  Thank you.  I think you were the
best performer of the evening.  You certainly surprised everyone who
thought they knew you.  I'll bet you've given Ed Peevey something to
think about now.  He'll be up soon to visit you, I'm sure!"
   "Well, might ... then again, might not." Martha couldn't resist the
imitation.  She snickered, then said goodnight.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
   Life in Gull Cottage went along as usual for a couple of weeks.  Then
Martha heard of the new project upon which Mrs. Muir and Captain Gregg
had embarked.  Now they were collaborating on a book of the Captain's
Memoirs.
   "Should be interesting, to say the least." Martha commented to Mrs.
Muir one morning.  "Is this to be pure and unvarnished?"
   "Well, only so far as makes an editor-acceptable story." Mrs. Muir
smiled.
   "I can gather more information from the ladies in the grocery store
if you like." Martha volunteered.
   "I don't think we need gossip accounts," Mrs. Muir shook her head. 
"And it's supposed to be a book about his life, not his afterlife."
   "I'm not so sure that there's much difference, from the totally
fantastic stories I've been hearing."  Martha grinned broadly.  "Once a
hell-raiser, always to be one, it seems.  In HIS case, anyway.  I told
you about Ethel's experience when she brought up some flowers for the
garden, didn't I?"
   "Just recently?"
   "Oh, no!  Before she married Seth.  She said she was quite a looker
back then, and I guess I can believe it.  Nice that some of us have that
to remember.  Anyway, a new family was to move in.  Distant cousins of
hers, I believe.  They didn't, after her experience, of course.  The
Captain sabotaged THAT rental quite handily!  At any rate, she said that
the Captain commented that the flowers were no match for her beauty ...
that next to her, they were mere weeds."
   Mrs. Muir looked at Martha sharply.  "Claymore said the same thing to
me, once!"
   Martha gave a short bark of laughter.  "Trust Claymore!  He has
probably heard Ethel telling this story over and over!  Even after forty
years, she's still getting mileage out of it!  Especially after we moved
in, the first ones in years who have defied the ghost!  Wonder if I'd
have been as brave as you, had I met the Captain that first night? 
Probably not.  At any rate, Ethel stood stunned for a moment after he
said that, then she heard a lot of maniacal laughter before a loud clap
of thunder came and a voice roared, ‘Begone, and do not ever try to
board my vessel again!'  Ethel ran off at the rate of no man's business,
and swears she won't set foot even in the yard at Gull Cottage ever
again!  Some people's opinions you just can't shake!  Oh, well," Martha
got to her feet, "I'm content here, now.  Just knowing about the Captain
makes everything so much easier to live with.  I don't have to worry
about the doors or windows or wind or rain and especially the thunder!"
   "Hmmm," Mrs. Muir got a faraway look in her eye.
   "And when you get like that, I know you've either been overcome with
a terrific new idea, or the Captain is talking with you!" Martha added. 
"Another plus knowing about the Captain.  I used to think there was
something more wrong with you than just being a writer."
   "Martha Grant!" Mrs. Muir pretended to be offended, but the smile
gleaming in her eyes belied the shocked look on her face.
   "At least I know all about the Captain now." reiterated Martha.
   "I hope you do not know ALL about me, Martha." the Captain's voice
echoed through the kitchen.
   "Well, what I don't know, I make up." Martha shrugged. "I'm doing
laundry today, Mrs. Muir, so could you answer the phone if it rings?"
   "Certainly."  Mrs. Muir stood up.  "I'm going to read some of the
papers Claymore gave me yesterday."
   "Anything you received from that misbegotten dolt is not likely to be
of much help, Mrs. Muir.  I have taken the liberty to put some letters
on your desk which I am sure will aid you." the Captain said.
   "Thank you." Mrs. Muir smiled at him, and he disappeared.
   Martha grabbed the dishtowels and went into the laundry room to start
her washing.  She had already gathered the sheets from everyone's bed. 
It was a nice, sunny day, and everything should dry well out on the
line.
   At noon, Martha called up the stairs to Mrs. Muir, telling her that
lunch was ready.  The younger woman came soberly into the kitchen.
   "We're having company this weekend, Martha.  I got a phone call from
my cousin Harriet."
   "She's coming alone?"
   "I hope so.  She didn't say that Hazel would come with her."
   "Two like that we don't need." Martha agreed.  She had met Mrs.
Muir's cousins before.  Nice enough, she supposed, but they had
irritated Martha at their last meeting by trying to inquire into Mrs.
Muir's personal life.  As if that was any of Martha's business, let
alone Harriet's or Hazel's!  Some spinsters were never happy to leave
other women alone.  Hazel had even asked Martha if SHE had a boyfriend! 
A boyfriend!  At HER age!  Not that she was too old, of course, but that
sounded so juvenile.  Now, the word "beau" was much more like it.  And
if she could just put Ed Peevey into that role ...
   "Harriet said she'd be here Friday sometime." Mrs. Muir took a bite
of her goulash.  "Mmm, you've outdone yourself with this goulash,
Martha."
   "Thank you.  You'll take care of the Captain, won't you?  I shudder
to think of Harriet's reaction to him, let alone his to her!"
   "I hope he'll behave.  It's just for the weekend.  I think."
   "True," Martha sounded and felt dubious.  "But that can be a long
time with Harriet."
   "Surely with the four of us trying, we can keep Harriet ignorant of
his presence in the house."
   "If you say so, Mrs. Muir.  But I never was much of a liar.  Still
and all, I'll give it a whirl.  Just try to persuade him to lay off the
storms while she's here!"
   Mrs. Muir laughed, and deftly changed the subject for the rest of the
meal.
      * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
   By Saturday morning, Martha was feeling more confident.  There had
been no storms.  No sign of the Captain.  She and Harriet and the
children had gone out to a movie the night before, Mrs. Muir pleading
too much work.  She was preparing breakfast when she heard Harriet on
the phone in the hall.
   "Hazel, she's seeing SOMEONE, but she's VERY evasive about it
...well, I'll keep you posted.  Just a minute!  I just found something
...Oh, Hazel, is it EVER serious!  Listen to this!"
   Martha pricked up her ears and stepped closer to the door to hear
better.  What were Hazel and Harriet on to now?
   Harriet began to speak in an impressive voice.  "Dearest Carolyn,
last evening was the sweetest ecstasy I shall ever know.  The beauty of
the moment was surpassed only by the beauty of you, my love."
   Martha's mouth dropped open in shock.  Who on earth was seeing Mrs.
Muir?  She'd had no idea that any suitors had been near Gull Cottage
since that sweet-tongued Mr. Callahan from Ireland!  And now Harriet had
uncovered something that even she, Martha, was unaware of?
   Harriet had hung up the phone, her voice fairly quivering with
excitement as she said goodbye to her sister.  Martha couldn't stand the
suspense any longer.  She stepped out into the entryway.
   "Good morning, Ma'am.  Did you sleep well?"
   "Oh, yes, of course.  Excuse me, I have to deliver these flowers to
Carolyn.  Aren't they lovely?"
   Martha caught a glimpse of a lovely assortment of blooms as Harriet
hurried up the stairs to take them to Carolyn.  "Who were they from?"
she called up, forgetting her vow to distance herself from the situation
as much as possible.
   "Unsigned.  But WE know, don't we?" Harriet stood poised on the
landing, looking back at Martha.  "After all, he seems to know when to
come — and he certainly makes himself at home.  They had some wine last
night while we were out, you know.  Oh, this is so exciting!" and
Harriet continued on her way.
   Who on earth would have sent flowers?  Martha wondered vaguely if the
Captain could, but dismissed the notion.  Nonsense.  He would have no
idea how to use a telephone, let alone have the means to purchase
flowers!  It had to be someone else.  But who on earth could it be?  At
last, Martha shook her head and went back to the kitchen.
   It wasn't long before Mrs. Muir was hurrying into the kitchen, a
flustered look on her face.  "Here, Martha, can you do something with
these flowers, please?"
   "I know it's not my place, Mrs. Muir, but ..."
   "The Captain sent them." Mrs. Muir interrupted Martha's words.  "He
has this silly idea that he wants to send Harriet and Hazel off on a
wild romantic goose chase!  And now, of all times!  I am trying to get
these letters read, and with all Harriet's interruptions, I'm getting
way behind schedule!"
   "Well, I'll put them in a vase for you, Mrs. Muir."
   "Thanks, Martha, you're a life-saver." Mrs. Muir flew out the door
again.
   Martha took her time arranging the flowers.  Imagine!  That sly old
coot HAD sent flowers to Mrs. Muir!  And such a lovely note, too.  One
definitely calculated to arouse Harriet's interest!  Martha grinned to
herself as she walked out of the kitchen.  At the bottom of the stairs
she was almost bowled over by Jonathan and Candy who went tearing past. 
Shaking her head, and muttering about needing a traffic guard, Martha
had just started up the stairs with the vase when Harriet called to her
from the living room.
   "Yes, Ma'am?" Martha walked in to where Harriet was closely examining
a pipe.  The Captain's pipe, Martha noted.  A filthy habit that
fortunately he did not indulge in too much.
   "The children mentioned a Captain Gregg.  I was just curious as to
who he is." Harriet tried to sound nonchalant.
   Martha hid her amusement.  "Well, let me introduce you."  She waved
to the portrait over the mantel.  "The man himself."
   "Oh, my, he's a handsome devil!" Harriet gasped.
   "And from what they say, the worst kind of a ladies' man."  Martha
said.  Then she chuckled.  "Or should I say, the BEST kind?"
   "I can believe it!" Harriet continued to gape, stupefied, at the
portrait.
   "Yep, he built Gull Cottage and lived here.  Quite a man, the
Captain." Martha tried to suppress the shudder that still went through
her every time she looked at the portrait.  Even after meeting the
Captain, she was unnerved by the assessing look in the portrait's blue
eyes.  Imagine what it would have been like had she been a possible
object for the Captain's, uh, attention!  She shuddered again.
   Harriet seemed to catch Martha's random musing as she stared up at
the Captain.  "And that must be quite a romance between him and
Carolyn!" she simpered, obviously fishing for whatever gossip Martha was
willing to give her.
   Martha stared at her blankly.  "Romance?"  Mrs. Muir's cousin was
crazy!  Hadn't Martha just said he had built Gull Cottage, and it was
obviously very old!  "Well, it'd sure have to be a long distance one. 
The Captain died a hundred years ago!"  With that, she turned and left
the room, shaking her head.  She didn't want to get involved in THIS
tangle!  Didn't she have enough to deal with, in regards to her OWN love
life or lack thereof, trying to bring Ed up to scratch?
   Quite the romance, indeed!  A romance between Mrs. Muir and that old
ghost?  So what if he was a breathtaking, stunning specimen of a man? 
He had been dead for over one hundred years!  Talk about long distance
... wait a minute!  Who knew what went on when that ghost and Mrs. Muir
were alone?  In Mrs. Muir's bedroom, much of the time, or even the
attic!  WHAT had that note said about the evening before when the two
were alone in Gull Cottage?  The sweetest ecstacy he had ever known? 
Martha thought grimly that she hadn't thought it possible to have a love
affair between a human being and a ghost, but then, she had never
thought of ghosts even existing.  She wondered if her wits had become
addled by the presence of the Captain in her life.  Of course, it was
all beginning to make sense now.  Mrs. Muir so lost in thought much of
the time ... her appetite so strange ... her inability to sleep much ...
she was in love!  As for the Captain, Martha wasn't sure about him.  But
she had seen some of the looks he had given pretty little Mrs. Muir, and
if they weren't verging on lecherous, SHE wasn't Martha Grant!  After
all, most of the stories about his life proved that he had had a
definite penchant for the ladies.  Martha would have made book on the
fact that his tastes and urges hadn't changed a whole lot after death!
   Still and all, Mrs. Muir HAD said the Captain was doing this all on
purpose, to provoke Harriet and indirectly her sister Hazel.  Martha
wondered if the Captain was, well, stuck between the two worlds, unable
to fully BE in one or the other.  Had he the choice, which one did he
want to be in?  Would he prefer to be here in Gull Cottage, fully
human?  Or wherever it is that all good ghosties are supposed to go? 
And DID he have the choice?  Why was he haunting Gull Cottage anyway? 
Surely not just to irritate the family!  Perhaps Martha shouldn't jump
the gun too much, so to speak, when it came to drawing conclusions about
what sort of relationship was between the ghost and Mrs. Muir.  Assuming
there could be anything, of course, which was a mighty big assumption,
Martha acknowledged inwardly.  With a sigh, she decided her first
inclination had been best.  She would stay out of this.  It wasn't any
of her business anyway.