The Tower at Sea
A Merry Voyage.
The Tower at Sea
Account of the final voyage of the Marry Ellan, recorded February 1842, John Holliday, 34.
‘Twas on a night as dark as I have seen in my life, amidst a storm as strong as the sea could bring to us, that I first laid eyes on it. That long dead tower, rising so majestically from the tumult all around us, centuries old, yet strong against that mighty tempest. To see it had given me a hope that my boat, old even by that time so long ago, my ferry us home safely, though such was not the fate for three in out number, who were swept from the deck by wind and waves, the Marry Ellan nonetheless did return to port, and with it came stories that none would believe. Yet, for all that I saw on the ill fated voyage, the thing which resounds within my being the loudest shall ever be that mournful tower, rising up from the blackened waters to touch the storm torn skies.
Thirteen years and some months ago was when we set out, 32 strong young men, every one of us in his prime and wanting for an adventure at sea, set out to sail. We had our sights set upon an island, many miles south, that many a man had told us was not there. Being young, foolhardy, and so thoroughly convinced of the foolishness of those more advanced in their years, we few men set to sea upon a boat of mine, the Marry Ellan, which in size could hold us, our supplies, and little else besides. We had food and drink, the latter being mostly the stronger sort, enough for the journey there, figuring we could easily enough restock our stores when we came upon the island. I can not say how many on old sea hand told us of our obvious foolhardiness, but we boys at play had no time for the old seadogs.
I, being the one in possession of a vessel, was deemed the leader of our little crew, and took my title with just the proper amount of overblown pride. I let all know full well how no living being in heaven or earth could put any fear in me. I suppose, now looking back, that god above had seen fit to take that as a challenge, one which he no doubt has most surely won. But, in that time, I reveled in my unopposed position as captain. With this infectious sense of confidence possessing us, we set out across the sea, aiming our craft to the south.
For many days, the sea was kind to we young sailors, and our spirits soared like the sky above us, so eternally blue and cloudless. I, for my part, spent most days lazing about upon the deck, hanging upon the rails and looking out upon the gorgeous blue of the sea. When occasion arose and the mood struck me, I might bark an order or two at my crewmen, and watch as they cleaned the deck, or fetched a round of drinks. ‘Twas a leisurely existence, and one I would have liked to get used to. Alas, this was not to be. For even while the sea is calm, the fancies of men are forever in a tumult.
Joseph Taylor, ever my loyal friend, and a man among my crew, was a fellow who forever abhorred stagnation, even in the very best of times. He had this in common with many among our number, and I do suspect that for the most of them this is why the y chose to go to sea at all. I, who had sailed upon the sea to fish on a rare occasion before, was under fewer illusions then my fellows, and was prepared for the long periods of calm, even to the point of enjoying them. Joseph would have none of this, and would stir up trouble when he could, much to the detriment of our journey. Be it starting brawls in the galley, or dumping a crewmate’s clothes to the waves, his merry making seemed harmless enough. At least at the start of things.
I have heard it said that boredom gives birth to all human sins, and it was certainly true in this case. We had been at sea for what I guess would be over a week, and my fellows and I had fallen into a happy sort of routine for each day. Why the sun was high and the sky was blue, we would for the most part still sleep drunkenly, or else stumble into the galley for a bite to eat. With afternoon came the cleaning, which always would take up the least our time, and as the sky turned black we sailor took to food and drink, and made a proper ruckus the like of which you’d not see on the shores. It was a good life, and one we all could take to. That is, all except Joseph Taylor.
My friend, or so he once had been, had come to despise the predictable quality to life on the Marry Ellan, and soon that discontent became a resentment for me, as her captain. Though me and my fellows would never have dreamed such a thing were possible, Joseph Taylor was making plans against me. Though no clouds had yet bared their dark heads before our path, a storm was brewing in the mind of my very dearest fellow. More hazardous still, was the fact that I had no way to know it was coming, and could not imagine the violence it would bring when it broke. The peace we had enjoyed thus far was nearly at an end, and we danced drunkenly into the night, completely without suspicion.
Account of the final voyage of the Marry Ellan, recorded February 1842, John Holliday, 34.
‘Twas on a night as dark as I have seen in my life, amidst a storm as strong as the sea could bring to us, that I first laid eyes on it. That long dead tower, rising so majestically from the tumult all around us, centuries old, yet strong against that mighty tempest. To see it had given me a hope that my boat, old even by that time so long ago, my ferry us home safely, though such was not the fate for three in out number, who were swept from the deck by wind and waves, the Marry Ellan nonetheless did return to port, and with it came stories that none would believe. Yet, for all that I saw on the ill fated voyage, the thing which resounds within my being the loudest shall ever be that mournful tower, rising up from the blackened waters to touch the storm torn skies.
Thirteen years and some months ago was when we set out, 32 strong young men, every one of us in his prime and wanting for an adventure at sea, set out to sail. We had our sights set upon an island, many miles south, that many a man had told us was not there. Being young, foolhardy, and so thoroughly convinced of the foolishness of those more advanced in their years, we few men set to sea upon a boat of mine, the Marry Ellan, which in size could hold us, our supplies, and little else besides. We had food and drink, the latter being mostly the stronger sort, enough for the journey there, figuring we could easily enough restock our stores when we came upon the island. I can not say how many on old sea hand told us of our obvious foolhardiness, but we boys at play had no time for the old seadogs.
I, being the one in possession of a vessel, was deemed the leader of our little crew, and took my title with just the proper amount of overblown pride. I let all know full well how no living being in heaven or earth could put any fear in me. I suppose, now looking back, that god above had seen fit to take that as a challenge, one which he no doubt has most surely won. But, in that time, I reveled in my unopposed position as captain. With this infectious sense of confidence possessing us, we set out across the sea, aiming our craft to the south.
For many days, the sea was kind to we young sailors, and our spirits soared like the sky above us, so eternally blue and cloudless. I, for my part, spent most days lazing about upon the deck, hanging upon the rails and looking out upon the gorgeous blue of the sea. When occasion arose and the mood struck me, I might bark an order or two at my crewmen, and watch as they cleaned the deck, or fetched a round of drinks. ‘Twas a leisurely existence, and one I would have liked to get used to. Alas, this was not to be. For even while the sea is calm, the fancies of men are forever in a tumult.
Joseph Taylor, ever my loyal friend, and a man among my crew, was a fellow who forever abhorred stagnation, even in the very best of times. He had this in common with many among our number, and I do suspect that for the most of them this is why the y chose to go to sea at all. I, who had sailed upon the sea to fish on a rare occasion before, was under fewer illusions then my fellows, and was prepared for the long periods of calm, even to the point of enjoying them. Joseph would have none of this, and would stir up trouble when he could, much to the detriment of our journey. Be it starting brawls in the galley, or dumping a crewmate’s clothes to the waves, his merry making seemed harmless enough. At least at the start of things.
I have heard it said that boredom gives birth to all human sins, and it was certainly true in this case. We had been at sea for what I guess would be over a week, and my fellows and I had fallen into a happy sort of routine for each day. Why the sun was high and the sky was blue, we would for the most part still sleep drunkenly, or else stumble into the galley for a bite to eat. With afternoon came the cleaning, which always would take up the least our time, and as the sky turned black we sailor took to food and drink, and made a proper ruckus the like of which you’d not see on the shores. It was a good life, and one we all could take to. That is, all except Joseph Taylor.
My friend, or so he once had been, had come to despise the predictable quality to life on the Marry Ellan, and soon that discontent became a resentment for me, as her captain. Though me and my fellows would never have dreamed such a thing were possible, Joseph Taylor was making plans against me. Though no clouds had yet bared their dark heads before our path, a storm was brewing in the mind of my very dearest fellow. More hazardous still, was the fact that I had no way to know it was coming, and could not imagine the violence it would bring when it broke. The peace we had enjoyed thus far was nearly at an end, and we danced drunkenly into the night, completely without suspicion.