Celia Thaxter

The Cruise of the Mystery

THE children wandered up and down,
    Seeking for driftwood o’er the sand;
The elder tugged at granny’s gown,
    And pointed with his little hand.
 
“Look! look!” he cried, “at yonder ship
    That sails so fast and looms so tall!”
She turned, and let her basket slip,
    And all her gathered treasure fall.
 
“Nay, granny, why are you so pale?
    Where is the ship we saw but now?”
“Oh, child, it was no mortal sail!
    It came and went, I know not how.
 
”But ill winds fill that canvas white
    That blow no good to you and me.
Oh, woe for us who saw the sight
    That evil bodes to all who see!"
 
They pressed about her, all afraid:
    “Oh, tell us, granny, what was she?”
“A ship’s unhappy ghost,” she said,
    “The awful ship, the Mystery.”
 
“But tell us, tell us!” “Quiet be!”
    She said. “Sit close and listen well,
For what befell the Mystery
    It is a fearful thing to tell!”
 
————————————-
 
She was a slave-ship long ago.
    Year after year across the sea
She made a trade of human woe,
    And carried freights of misery.
 
One voyage, when from the tropic coast
    Laden with dusky forms she came, —
A wretched and despairing host, —
    Beneath the fierce sun’s breathless flame
 
Sprang, like a wild beast from its lair,
    The fury of the hurricane,
And sent the great ship reeling bare
    Across the roaring ocean plain.
 
Then terror seized the piteous crowd:
    With many an oath and cruel blow
The captain drove them, shrieking loud,
    Into the pitch-black hold below.
 
Shouting, “Make fast the hatchways tight!”
    He cursed them: “Let them live or die,
They’ll trouble us no more to-night!”
    The crew obeyed him sullenly.
 
Has hell such torment as they knew?
    Like herded cattle packed they lay,
Till morning showed a streak of blue
    Breaking the sky’s thick pall of gray.
 
“Off with the hatchways, men!” No sound!
    What sound should rise from out a grave?
The silence shook with dread profound
    The heart of every seaman brave.
 
“Quick! Drag them up,” the captain said,
    “And pitch the dead into the sea!”
The sea was peopled with the dead,
    With wide eyes staring fearfully.
 
From weltering wave to wave they tossed.
    Two hundred corpses, stiff and stark,
At last were in the distance lost,
    A banquet for the wandering shark.
 
Oh, sweetly the relenting day
    Changed, till the storm had left no trace,
And the whole awful ocean lay
    As tranquil as an infant’s face.
 
Abaft the wind hauled fair and fine,
    Lightly the ship sped on her way;
Her sharp bows crushed the yielding brine
    Into a diamond dust of spray.
 
But up and down the decks her crew
    Shook their rough heads, and eyed askance,
With doubt and hate that ever grew,
    The captain’s brutal countenance,
 
As slow he paced with frown as black
    As night. At last, with sudden shout,
He turned. “'Bout ship! We will go back
    And fetch another cargo out!”
 
They put the ship about again;
    His will was law, they could not choose.
They strove to change her course in vain:
    Down fell the wind, the sails hung loose,
 
And from the far horizon dim
    An oily calm crept silently
Over the sea from rim to rim;
    Still as if anchored fast lay she.
 
The sun set red, the moon shone white,
    On idle canvas drooping drear;
Through the vast, solemn hush of night
    What is it that the sailors hear?
 
Now do they sleep —and do they dream?
    Was that the wind’s foreboding moan?
From stem to stern her every beam
    Quivered with one unearthly groan!
 
Leaped to his feet then every man,
    And shuddered, clinging to his mate;
And sunburned cheeks grew pale and wan,
    Blanched with that thrill of terror great.
 
The captain waked, and angrily
    Sprang to the deck, and cursing spoke.
“What devil’s trick is this?” cried he.
    No answer the scared silence broke.
 
But quietly the moonlight clear
    Sent o’er the waves its pallid glow:
What stirred the water far and near,
    With stealthy motion swimming slow?
 
With measured strokes those swimmers dread
    From every side came gathering fast;
The sea was peopled with the dead
    That to its cruel deeps were cast!
 
And coiling, curling, crawling on,
    The phantom troop pressed nigh and nigher,
And every dusky body shone
    Outlined in phosphorescent fire.
 
They gained the ship, they climbed the shrouds,
    They swarmed from keel to topmast high;
Now here, now there, like filmy clouds
    Without a sound they flickered by.
 
And where the captain stood aghast,
    With hollow, mocking eyes they came,
And bound him fast unto the mast
    With ghostly ropes that bit like flame.
 
Like maniacs shrieked the startled crew!
    They loosed the boats, they leaped within;
Before their oars the water flew;
    They pulled as if some race to win.
 
With spectral light all gleaming bright
    The Mystery in the distance lay;
Away from that accursed sight
    They fled until the break of day.
 
And they were rescued, but the ship,
    The awful ship, the Mystery,
Her captain in the dead men’s grip, —
    Never to any port came she;
 
But up and down the roaring seas
    For ever and for aye she sails,
In calm or storm, against the breeze,
    Unshaken by the wildest gales.
 
And wheresoe’er her form appears
    Come trouble and disaster sore,
And she has sailed a hundred years,
    And she will sail for evermore.
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