The Midnight Butcher of Seattle

Some years ago, I was fishing and found myself in a rough fisherman’s hut. The door was opened by a man of most forbidden appearance; he was almost a giant. His face was nearly weather-beaten and scarred, and his hair hung in tangled masses about his broad shoulders. I asked him for shelter for the night. He looked searchingly at our small party and said in a gruff voice, 'I can give you a place to sleep, but you won't find any luxuries in the shanty.' We entered and sat on the lid of an old sea chest. The room was cluttered with fishing nets and boat-hooks. He offered us some bread, bacon, and eggs. The meal was finished in silence, and after it was over, our host said, 'I shouldn't have had you if you could have found any other place. I'm not very pleased with your appearance or my accommodations, but I can assure you that those who lodge with me generally wake up.' This remark sent a thrill of horror through my frame. It was about nine o'clock when we decided to retire. Our host said, 'I have two beds. You are the largest man of our party, you’d better take this bed, and your two friends occupy the other.' I fell into an unquiet sleep, until I awoke from a horrid nightmare in which our host was astride my chest, holding a knife to my throat. Suddenly, a strange sound from the adjoining room struck my ear. It was a sound as that caused when steel is drawn across a whetstone. I crept from the bed and placed my eye to the keyhole. Horror rose within me—our host was sharpening a long, formidable knife by the light of a binnacle lamp. His face wore a look of intense resolve. I determined to watch. Presently, there was a pressure against the door of my room. The arm of the murderer revealed itself, and I heard him mutter: 'The fellow has barricaded his door. I promised him that he should sleep soundly, and I will keep my word if I can.' Little by little, he forced the door open, brandishing his murderous knife. My breath came quick and hard. He approached the bed until he stood directly over me. Just as I was about to throw the bedclothes over his head, I saw him reach up and grasp a ham which hung just over the bed, take it down from its hook quietly, and depart. I never will forget the mortal terror I felt that night, nor the relief which followed my discovery that he had been sharpening his knife to carve ham for our breakfast; and never again will I judge a man by his looks.