{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_72707/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_72707","id":"gutenberg_72707","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/72707","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Category: Short Stories","Horror tales","Short stories"],"text":"Sea Curse\n\nROBERT E. HOWARD\n\n\n\n\nACKNOWLEDGMENTS\n\n_Sea Curse_, copyright 1928 by Popular Fiction Publishing Company for\n_Weird Tales_, May 1928.\n\n\n\n\nSea Curse\n\n\n  And some return by the failing light\n    And some in the waking dream,\n  For she hears the heels of the dripping ghosts\n    That ride the rough roofbeam.\n                                        --Kipling\n\n\nThey were the brawlers and braggarts, the loud boasters and hard\ndrinkers, of Faring town, John Kulrek and his crony Lie-lip Canool.\nMany a time have I, a tousled-haired lad, stolen to the tavern door\nto listen to their curses, their profane arguments and wild sea\nsongs; half fearful and half in admiration of these wild rovers.\nAye, all the people of Faring town gazed on them with fear and\nadmiration, for they were not like the rest of the Faring men; they\nwere not content to ply their trade along the coasts and among the\nshark-teeth shoals.  No yawls, no skiffs for them!  They fared far,\nfarther than any other man in the village, for they shipped on the\ngreat sailing-ships that went out on the white tides to brave the\nrestless gray ocean and make ports in strange lands.\n\nAh, I mind it was swift times in the little sea-coast village of\nFaring when John Kulrek came home, with his furtive Lie-lip at his\nside, swaggering down the gang-plank, in his tarry sea-clothes, and\nthe broad leather belt that held his ever-ready dagger; shouting\ncondescending greeting to some favored acquaintance, kissing some\nmaiden who ventured too near; then up the street, roaring some\nscarcely decent song of the sea.  How the cringers and the idlers,\nthe hangers-on, would swarm about the two desperate heroes,\nflattering and smirking, guffawing hilariously at each nasty jest.\nFor to the tavern loafers and to some of the weaker among the\nstraight-forward villagers, these men with their wild talk and their\nbrutal deeds, their tales of the Seven Seas and the far countries,\nthese men, I say, were valiant knights, nature's noblemen who dared\nto be men of blood and brawn.\n\nAnd all feared them, so that when a man was beaten or a woman\ninsulted, the villagers muttered--and did nothing.  And so when Moll\nFarrell's niece was put to shame by John Kulrek, none dared even to\nput in words what all thought.  Moll had never married, and she and\nthe girl lived alone in a little hut down close to the beach, so\nclose that in high tide the waves came almost to the door.\n\nThe people of the village accounted old Moll something of a witch,\nand she was a grim, gaunt old dame who had little to say to anyone.\nBut she minded her own business, and eked out a slim living by\ngathering clams, and picking up bits of driftwood.\n\nThe girl was a pretty, foolish little thing, vain and easily\nbefooled, else she had never yielded to the shark-like blandishments\nof John Kulrek.\n\nI mind the day was a cold winter day with a sharp breeze out of the\neast when the old dame came into the village street shrieking that\nthe girl had vanished.  All scattered over the beach and back among\nthe bleak inland hills to search for her--all save John Kulrek and\nhis cronies who sat in the tavern dicing and toping.  All the while\nbeyond the shoals, we heard the never-ceasing droning of the heaving,\nrestless grey monster, and in the dim light of the ghostly dawn Moll\nFarrell's girl came home.\n\nThe tides bore her gently across the wet sands and laid her almost at\nher own door.  Virgin-white she was, and her arms were folded across\nher still bosom; calm was her face, and the gray tides sighed about\nher slender limbs.  Moll Farrell's eyes were stones, yet she stood\nabove her dead girl and spoke no word till John Kulrek and his crony\ncame reeling down from the tavern, their drinking-jacks still in\ntheir hands.  Drunk was John Kulrek, and the people gave back for\nhim, murder in their souls; so he came and laughed at Moll Farrell\nacross the body of her girl.\n\n\"Zounds!\" swore John Kulrek; \"the wench has drowned herself, Lie-lip!\"\n\nLie-lip laughed, with the twist of his thin mouth.  He always hated\nMoll Farrell, for it was she that had given him the name of Lie-lip.\n\nThen John Kulrek lifted his drinking-jack, swaying on his uncertain\nlegs.  \"A health to the wench's ghost!\" he bellowed, while all stood\naghast.\n\nThen Moll Farrell spoke, and the words broke from her in a scream\nwhich sent ripples of cold up and down the spines of the throng.\n\n\"The curse of the Foul Fiend upon you, John Kulrek!\" she screamed.\n\"The curse of God rest upon your vile soul throughout eternity!  May\nyou gaze on sights that shall sear the eyes of you and scorch the\nsoul of you!  May you die a bloody death and writhe in hell's flames\nfor a million and a million and yet a million years!  I curse you by\nsea and by land, by earth and by air, by the demons of the oceans and\nthe demons of the swamplands, the fiends of the forests and the\ngoblins of the hills!  And you--\" her lean finger stabbed at Lie-lip\nCanool and he started backward, his face paling, \"you shall be the\ndeath of John Kulrek and he shall be the death of you!  You shall\nbring John Kulrek to the doors of hell and John Kulrek shall bring\nyou to the gallows-tree!  I set the seal of death upon your brow,\nJohn Kulrek!  You shall live in terror and die in horror far out upon\nthe cold grey sea!  But the sea that took the soul of innocence to\nher bosom shall not take you, but shall fling forth your vile carcass\nto the sands!  Aye, John Kulrek--\" and she spoke with such a terrible\nintensity that the drunken mockery on the man's face changed to one\nof swinish stupidity, \"the sea roars for the victim it will not keep!\nThere is snow upon the hills, John Kulrek, and ere it melts your\ncorpse will lie at my feet.  And I shall spit upon it and be content.\"\n\nKulrek and his crony sailed at dawn for a long voyage, and Moll went\nback to her hut and her clam gathering.  She seemed to grow leaner\nand more grim than ever and her eyes smoldered with a light not sane.\nThe days glided by and people whispered among themselves that Moll's\ndays were numbered, for she faded to a ghost of a woman; but she went\nher way, refusing all aid.\n\nThat was a short, cold summer and the snow on the barren inland hills\nnever melted; a thing very unusual, which caused much comment among\nthe villagers.  At dusk and at dawn Moll would come up on the beach,\ngaze up at the snow which glittered on the hills, then out to sea\nwith a fierce intensity in her gaze.\n\nThen the days grew shorter, the nights longer and darker, and the\ncold grey tides came sweeping along the bleak strands, bearing the\nrain and sleet of the sharp east breezes.\n\nAnd upon a bleak day a trading-vessel sailed into the bay and\nanchored.  And all the idlers and the wastrels flocked to the wharfs,\nfor that was the ship upon which John Kulrek and Lie-lip Canool had\nsailed.  Down the gang-plank came Lie-lip, more furtive than ever,\nbut John Kulrek was not there.\n\nTo shouted queries, Canool shook his head.  \"Kulrek deserted ship at\na port of Sumatra,\" said he.  \"He had a row with the skipper, lads;\nwanted me to desert, too, but no!  I had to see you fine lads again,\neh, boys?\"\n\nAlmost cringing was Lie-lip Canool, and suddenly he recoiled as Moll\nFarrell came through the throng.  A moment they stood eyeing each\nother; then Moll's grim lips bent in a terrible smile.\n\n\"There's blood on your hand, Canool!\" she lashed out suddenly--so\nsuddenly that Lie-lip started and rubbed his right hand across his\nleft sleeve.\n\n\"Stand aside, witch!\" he snarled in sudden anger, striding through\nthe crowd which gave back for him.  His admirers followed him to the\ntavern.\n\nNow, I mind that the next day was even colder; grey fogs came\ndrifting out of the east and veiled the sea and the beaches.  There\nwould be no sailing that day, and so all the villagers were in their\nsnug houses or matching tales at the tavern.  So it came about that\nJoe, my friend, a lad of my own age, and I, were the ones who saw the\nfirst of the strange thing that happened.\n\nBeing harum-scarum lads of no wisdom, we were sitting in a small\nrowboat, floating at the end of the wharfs, each shivering and\nwishing the other would suggest leaving, there being no reason\nwhatever for our being there, save that it was a good place to build\nair-castles undisturbed.\n\nSuddenly Joe raised his hand.  \"Say,\" he said, \"d'ye hear?  Who can\nbe out on the bay upon a day like this?\"\n\n\"Nobody.  What d'ye hear?\"\n\n\"Oars.  Or I'm a lubber.  Listen.\"\n\nThere was no seeing anything in that fog, and I heard nothing.  Yet\nJoe swore he did, and suddenly his face assumed a strange look.\n\n\"Somebody rowing out there, I tell you!  The bay is alive with oars\nfrom the sound!  A score of boats at the least!  Ye dolt, can ye not\nhear?\"\n\nThen, as I shook my head, he leaped and began to undo the painter.\n\n\"I'm off to see.  Name me liar if the bay is not full of boats, all\ntogether like a close fleet.  Are you with me?\"\n\nYes, I was with him, though I heard nothing.  Then out in the\ngreyness we went, and the fog closed behind and before so that we\ndrifted in a vague world of smoke, seeing naught and hearing naught.\nWe were lost in no time, and I cursed Joe for leading us upon a wild\ngoose chase that was like to end with our being swept out to sea.  I\nthought of Moll Farrell's girl and shuddered.\n\nHow long we drifted I know not.  Minutes faded into hours, hours into\ncenturies.  Still Joe swore he heard the oars, now close at hand, now\nfar away, and for hours we followed them, steering our course toward\nthe sound, as the noise grew or receded.  This I later thought of,\nand could not understand.\n\nThen, when my hands were so numb that I could no longer hold the oar,\nand the forerunning drowsiness of cold and exhaustion was stealing\nover me, bleak white stars broke through the fog which glided\nsuddenly away, fading like a ghost of smoke, and we found ourselves\nafloat just outside the mouth of the bay.  The waters lay smooth as a\npond, all dark green and silver in the starlight, and the cold came\ncrisper than ever.  I was swinging the boat about, to put back into\nthe bay, when Joe gave a shout, and for the first time I heard the\nclack of oar-locks.  I glanced over my shoulder and my blood went\ncold.\n\nA great beaked prow loomed above us, a weird, unfamiliar shape\nagainst the stars, and as I caught my breath, sheered sharply and\nswept by us, with a curious swishing I never heard any other craft\nmake.  Joe screamed and backed oars frantically, and the boat walled\nout of the way just in time; for though the prow had missed us, still\notherwise we had died.  For from the sides of the ship stood long\noars, bank upon bank which swept her along.  Though I had never seen\nsuch a craft, I knew her for a galley.  But what was she doing upon\nour coasts?  They said, the far-farers, that such ships were still in\nuse among the heathens of Barbary; but it was many a long, heaving\nmile to Barbary, and even so she did not resemble the ships described\nby those who had sailed far.\n\nWe started in pursuit, and this was strange, for though the waters\nbroke about her prow, and she seemed fairly to fly through the waves,\nyet she was making little speed, and it was no time before we caught\nup with her.  Making our painter fast to a chain far back beyond the\nreach of the swishing oars, we hailed those on deck.  But there came\nno answer, and at last, conquering our fears, we clambered up the\nchain and found ourselves upon the strangest deck man has trod for\nmany a long, roaring century.\n\n\"This is no Barbary rover!\" muttered Joe fearsomely.  \"Look, how old\nit seems!  Almost ready to fall to pieces.  Why, 'tis fairly rotten!\"\n\nThere was no one on deck, no one at the long sweep with which the\ncraft was steered.  We stole to the hold and looked down the stair.\nThen and there, if ever men were on the verge of insanity, it was we.\nFor there were rowers there, it is true; they sat upon the rowers'\nbenches and drove the creaking oars through the gray waters.  _And\nthey that rowed were skeletons!_\n\nShrieking, we plunged across the deck, to fling ourselves into the\nsea.  But at the rail I tripped upon something and fell headlong, and\nas I lay, I saw a thing which vanquished my fear of the horrors below\nfor an instant.  The thing upon which I had tripped was a human body,\nand in the dim gray light that was beginning to steal across the\neastern waves I saw a dagger hilt standing up between his shoulders.\nJoe was at the rail, urging me to haste, and together we slid down\nthe chain and cut the painter.\n\nThen we stood off into the bay.  Straight on kept the grim galley,\nand we followed, slowly, wondering.  She seemed to be heading\nstraight for the beach beside the wharfs, and as we approached, we\nsaw the wharfs thronged with people.  They had missed us, no doubt,\nand now they stood, there in the early dawn light, struck dumb by the\napparition which had come up out of the night and the grim ocean.\n\nStraight on swept the galley, her oars a-swish; then ere she reached\nthe shallow water--crash!--a terrific reverberation shook the bay.\nBefore our eyes the grim craft seemed to melt away; then she\nvanished, and the green waters seethed where she had ridden, but\nthere floated no driftwood there, nor did there ever float any\nashore.  Aye, something floated ashore, but it was grim driftwood!\n\nWe made the landing amid a hum of excited conversation that stopped\nsuddenly.  Moll Farrell stood before her hut, limned gauntly against\nthe ghostly dawn, her lean hand pointing seaward.  And across the\nsighing wet sands, borne by the grey tide, something came floating;\nsomething that the waves dropped at Moll Farrell's feet.  And there\nlooked up at us, as we crowded about, a pair of unseeing eyes set in\na still, white face.  John Kulrek had come home.\n\nStill and grim he lay, rocked by the tide, and as he lurched\nsideways, all saw the dagger hilt that stood from his back--the\ndagger all of us had seen a thousand times at the belt of Lie-lip\nCanool.\n\n\"Aye, I killed him!\" came Canool's shriek, as he writhed and groveled\nbefore our gaze.  \"At sea on a still night in a drunken brawl I slew\nhim and hurled him overboard!  And from the far seas he has followed\nme--\" his voice sank to a hideous whisper,\n\"because--of--the--curse--the--sea--would--not--keep--his--body!\"\n\nAnd the wretch sank down, trembling, the shadow of the gallows\nalready in his eyes.\n\n\"Aye!\"  Strong, deep and exultant was Moll Farrell's voice.  \"From\nthe hell of lost craft Satan sent a ship of bygone ages!  A ship red\nwith gore and stained with the memory of horrid crimes!  None other\nwould bear such a vile carcass!  The sea has taken vengeance and has\ngiven me mine.  See now, how I spit upon the face of John Kulrek.\"\n\nAnd with a ghastly laugh, she pitched forward, the blood starting to\nher lips.  And the sun came up across the restless sea.","title":"Sea curse","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":2712}