 The Hounds of Fate by Sarkie. In the fading light of a close dull autumn afternoon, Martin Stoner plodded hynny ddim yn ysgrififau ac ymwneud hynny'n ddysgu'r cartrex ac yn ddiddordeb hynny yn y ddiddordeb hynny. Bydd yn ysgol yng Nghymru, rydyn ni'n ddiddordeb y llywau, a ddiddordeb y llywau, ym ardal chi, yn y llywau hynny. Cwrs, rydyn ni'n ddiddordeb yr ysgol, rydyn ni'n ddiddordeb yr oed yn mewn oed, ond eithaf y gallu amgylch gan y cymdeithas, a'n gweld unig i'r stag hwnnw yn y terfynrfa'r gael. Ddiolch i'w rai, mae'r ysgwrdd o'r ffaith yn hyn yn syniadu'n gweithio'n hyn o'r hynny'n gweithio'n cymdeithas, mae'r ffotiig a'r hyngylch yn ymhyglasol yn cyhoeddi'n mynd i'r bwysig, ac mae'n gweithio'n gweithio'n cychwyn ffifolio i'r gweithio'n gwybod ychydig yn gweithio'n gweithio. Stono was one of those unfortunate individuals who seemed to have tried everything, and natural sluthfulness and improvidence had always intervened to blight any chance of even moderate success. And now he was at the end of his tether, and there was nothing more to try. Desparation had not awakened in him any dormant reserve of energy. On the contrary, a mental torpor grew around the crisis of his fortunes. With the clothes he stood up in, a half penny in his pocket, and no single friend or acquaintance to turn to, with no prospect either of a bed for the night, or a meal for the morrow, Martin Stoner trudged solidly forward between moist hedge rows and beneath dripping trees. His mind almost a blank, except that he was subconsciously aware that somewhere in front of him lay the sea. Another consciousness intruded now and then. The knowledge that he was miserably hungry. Presently he came to a halt by an open gateway that led into a spacious and rather neglected farm garden. There was little sign of life about, and the farmhouse at the further end of the garden looked chill and inhospitable. A drizzling rain, however, was setting in, and Stoner thought that here perhaps he might obtain a few minutes' shelter and buy a glass of milk with his last remaining coin. He turned slowly and wearily into the garden and followed a narrow, flagged path up to a side door. Before he had time to knock, the door opened and a bent, withered-looking old man stood aside in the doorway as though to let him pass in. "'Could I come in out of the rain?' Stoner began, but the old man interrupted him. "'Come in, Master Tom! I knew me back one of these days!' Stoner lurched across the threshold and stood staring uncomprehendingly at the other. "'Sit down while I put out a bit of supper,' said the old man with quavering eagerness. Stoner's legs gave way from very weariness, and he sank inertly into the armchair that had been pushed up to him. In another minute he was deviring the cold meat, cheese and bread that had been placed on the table at his side. "'You little change these four years,' went on the old man, "'in a voice that sounded to Stoner as something in a dream far away and inconsequent. "'But you'll find us a deal changed, you will. "'There's no one about the place same as when you left, nor but me and your old aunt. "'I'll go and tell her that you've come. She won't be seeing you, but she'll let you stay right enough. "'She always did say that if you were to come back you should stay. "'But she'd never set eyes on you or speak to you again.' The old man placed a mug of beer on the table in front of Stoner, and then hobbled away down a long passage. The drizzle of rain had changed to a furious lashing downpour which beat violently against the door and windows. The wanderer thought with a shudder of what the sea shore must look like under this drenching rainfall with night beating down on all sides. He changed the food and beer and sat numbly waiting for the return of his strange host. As the minutes ticked by on the grandfather clock in the corner, a new hope began to flicker and grow in the young man's mind. It was merely the expansion of his former craving for food and a few minutes' rest into a longing to find a night's shelter under this seemingly hospitable roof. A clattering of footsteps down the passage heralded the old farm's servant's return. The old Mrs won't see you, Master Tom, but she says you're to stay. Tis right enough, seeing the farm will be yours when she be put under earth. I've had a fire lit in your room, Master Tom, and the maids have put fresh sheets on to the bed. You'll find nought changed up there. Maybe you'd heard, and you'd like to go there now. Without a word, Martin Stoner rose heavily to his feet and followed his ministering angel along a passage, up a short creaking stair, along another passage, and into a large room, lit with a cheerfully blazing fire. There was but little furniture, plain, old-fashioned, and good of its kind. A stuffed squirrel in a case and a wall calendar of four years ago were about the only symptoms of decoration. But Stoner had eyes for little else than the bed and could hardly wait to tear his clothes off him before rolling in a luxury of weariness into its comfortable depths. The hounds of fate seemed to have checked for a brief moment. In the cold light of morning, Stoner laughed mirthlessly as he slowly realised the position in which he found himself. Perhaps he might snatch a bit of breakfast on the strength of his likeness to this other missing nerdy well and get safely away before anyone discovered the fraud that had been thrust on him. In the room downstairs, he found the bent old man ready with a dish of bacon and fried eggs for Master Tom's breakfast. While a hard-faced, elderly maid brought in a teapot and poured him out a cup of tea. As he sat at the table, a small spaniel came up and made friendly advances. His old balker's pup explained the old man whom the hard-faced maid had addressed as George. She was main fun to you, never seen the same way after you went to Australia. She doughied about a year ago on his her pup. Stoner found it difficult to regret her decease as a witness for identification she would have left something to be desired. Your go-for-a-ride Master Tom was the next startling proposition that came from the old man. We got a nice little rhan cop that goes well in saddle. Old Biddy is getting a bit up in the ears though her goes well still. But I'll have the little rhan saddled and brought round to the door. I've got no riding things, stammered the cast away, almost laughing as he looked at his one suit of well-worn clothes. Master Tom said the old man earnestly almost with an offended air, all your things is just as you left them. A little bit of air in before the fire and they'll be all right. It will be a bit of a distraction like a little ride in and while folling now and again. You'll find the folk round here has hardened bit of minds towards you. They haven't forgotten nor forgiven. No one will come know you so you best get what distraction you can with horse and dog, them good company too. Old George hobbled away to give his orders and Stoner, feeling more than ever like one in a dream, went upstairs to inspect Master Tom's wardrobe. A ride was one of the pleasures dearest to his heart and there was some protection against immediate discovery of his imposture in the thought that none of Tom's a four-time companions were likely to favour him with a close inspection. As the interloper thrust himself into some tolerably well-fitting riding cords he wondered vaguely what manner of misdeed the genuine Tom had committed to set the whole countryside against him. The thud of quick eager hooves on damp earth cut short his speculations. The Roan cob had been brought up to the side door. A talk of beggars on horseback thought Stoner to himself as he trot did rapidly along the muddy lanes where he had tramped yesterday as a down-at-heel outcast and then he flung reflection indolently a side and gave himself up to the pleasure of a smart canter along the turf-grown side of a level stretch of road. At an open gateway he checked his pace to allow two carts to turn into a field. The lads driving the carts found time to give him a prolonged stare and as he passed on he heard an excited voice call out as Tom Porake. I know dim at once, shown his self here again, is he? Evidently the likeness which had imposed at close quarters on a doddering old man was good enough to mislead younger eyes at a short distance. In the course of his ride he met with ample evidence to confirm the statement that local fate had neither forgotten nor for given the bygone crime had come to him as a legacy from the absent Tom. Scowling looks, mutterings and nudgings greeted him wherever he tranced upon human beings. Bocos pup trotting classically by his side seemed to be the one element of friendliness in a hostile world. As he dismounted at the side door he caught a fleeting glimpse of a gaunt elderly woman peering at him from behind the curtain of an upper window. Evidently this was his aunt by adoption. Over the ample midday meal that stood in readiness for him a stoner was able to review the possibilities of his extraordinary situation. The real Tom, after four years of absence might suddenly turn up at the farm or a letter might come from him at any moment. Again, in the character of air to the farm the false Tom might be called on to signed documents which would be an embarrassing predicament or a relative might arrive who would not imitate the aunt's attitude of aloofness. All these things would mean ignominious exposure. On the other hand the alternative was the open sky and the muddy lanes that led down to the sea. The farm offered him at any rate a temporary refuge from destitution. Farming was one of the many things he had tried and he would be able to do a certain amount of work in return for the hospitality to which he was so little entitled. Will you have cold pork for your supper? Ask the hard faded maid as she cleared the table and how about hot it up? Hot with onions said Stoner. It was the only time in his life that he had made a rapid decision. As he gave the order he knew that he meant to stay. Stoner kept rigidly to those portions of the house which seemed to have been allocated to him by a tacit treaty of delimitation. When he took part in the farm work it was as one who worked under orders and never initiated them. O George, the Roan Cobb and Boca's pup were his sole companions in the world that was otherwise frostily silent and hostile. Of the mistress of the farm he saw nothing. Once when he knew she had gone forth to church he made a 30 visit to the farm parlor in an endeavour to glean some fragmentary knowledge of the young man whose place he had of usert and whose ill-reputed fastened on himself. There were many photographs hung on the walls or stuck in prem frames but the likeness he sought was not among them at last in an album thrust out of sight he came across what he wanted. There was a whole series labelled Tom a podgy child of three in a fantastic frock an awkward boy of about 12 holding a cricket bat as though he loathed it a rather good looking youth of 18 with very smooth, evenly parted hair and finally a young man with a somewhat surly daredevil expression. At this last portrait Stoner looked with particular interest the likeness to himself was unmistakable. From the lips of old George who was garrulous enough on most subjects he tried again and again to learn something of the nature of the offence which shut him off as a creature to be shunned and hated by his fellow men. What do the folk around here say about me? He asked one day as they were walking home from an outlying field the old man shook his head. They be bitter again you. Mortal bitter. Ah it is a sad business a sad business and never could he be got to say anything more enlightening. On a clear frosty evening a few days before the festival of Christmas Stoner stood in a corner of the orchard which commanded a wide view of the countryside. Here and there he could see the twinkling dots of lamp or candle glow which told of human homes where the goodwill and jollity of the season held their sway. Behind him lay the grim silent farmhouse where no one ever laughed where even a quarrel would have seemed cheerful as he turned to look at the long grey front of the gloom shadowed building a door opened and old George came hurriedly forth. Stoner heard his adopted name called in a tone of strained anxiety. Instantly he knew that something untoward had happened and with a quick revulsion of outlook his sanctuary became in his eyes a place of peace and contentment from which he dreaded to be driven. Master Tom said they old man in a horse whisper you must slip away quiet from here for a few days. Michael Lay is back in the village and he swears to shoot you if he can come across you. He'll do it too, there's murder in the look of him. Get away under cover of night it is only for a week or so he won't be here longer. But I mean where am I to go Stoner who had caught the infection of the old man's obvious terror. Go right away along the coast of Punchford and keep hid there. When Michael's safe gone I'll ride the rune over to the green dragon at Punchford and when you see the cobs tabled at the green dragon tis a sign you may come back again. But began Stoner hesitantly oh tis alright for money said the other the old missus agrees you'll best do as I say and she's given me this and the old man produced three sovereigns and some odd silver. Stoner felt more of a cheat than ever as he stole away that night from the back gate of the farm with the old woman's money in his pocket. Old George and Bocoth pup stood watching him a silent farewell from the yard. He could scarcely fancy that he would ever come back and he felt a throb of compunction for those two humble friends who would wait wistfully for his return. Someday perhaps the real Tom would come back and there would be wild wonderment amongst those single farm folks as to the identity of the shadowy guest they had harbored under their roof. For his own fate he felt no immediate anxiety. Three pounds goes but a little way in the world when there is nothing behind it but to a man who has counted his ex-jacker in pennies it seems a good starting point. Fortune had done him a whimsically kind turn when last he trod those lanes as a hopeless adventurer and there might yet be a chance of his finding some work and making a fresh start. As he got further from the farm his spirits rose higher. There was a sense of relief in regaining once more his lost identity and ceasing to be the uneasy ghost of another. Carelessly bothered to speculate about the implacable enemy who was dropped from nowhere into his life. Since that life was now behind him one unreal item the more made little difference. For the first time for many months he began to hum a careless lighthearted refrain. Then there stepped out from the shadow of an overhanging oak tree a man with a gun. There was no need to wonder who he might be the moonlight falling on his white set face revealed a glare of human hate such as stoner in the ups and downs of his wanderings had never seen before. He sprang aside in a wild effort to break through the hedge that boarded the lane but the tough branches held him fast. The hounds of fate had waited for him in those narrow lanes and this time they were not to be denied. The end of the hounds of fate by Sarki. I'm not sure if you think there exists such things as phantoms possessing an appearance peculiar to themselves and a certain supernatural power or that mere empty delusions receive a shape from our fears. For my part I am led to believe in their existence especially by what I hear happened to Cerdius Rufus while still in humble circumstances and obscure he was a hangar on near the end of the hounds. While pacing the colonnade one afternoon there appeared to him a female form of superhuman size and beauty. She informed the terrified man that she was Africa and had come to foretell future events for that he would go to Rome, would fill offices of state there and would even return to that same province with the highest powers and die in it. All which things were fulfilling Moreover, as he touched at Carthage and was disembarking from his ship the same form is said to have presented itself to him on the shore. It is certain that being seized with illness and auguring the future from the past and misfortune from his previous prosperity he himself abandoned all hope of life though none of those about him despared. Is not the following story again still more appalling and not less marvellous? I will relate it as it was received by me. There was at Athens a mansion, spacious and commodious but of evil repute and dangerous to health. In the dead of night there was a noise as of iron and if you listen more closely a clanking of chains was heard. First of all from a distance an afterward hard way. Presently a spectre used to appear an ancient man sinking with emaciation and squala with a long beard and bristly hair wearing shackles on his legs and fetters on his hands and shaking them. Hence the inmates, by reason of their fears passed miserable and horrible nights in sleeplessness. This want of sleep was followed by disease and their terrors increasing by death. For in the daytime as well though the apparition had departed yet a reminiscence of it flitted before their eyes and their dread outlived its cause. The mansion was accordingly deserted and condemned to solitude was entirely abandoned to the dreadful ghost. However it was advertised on the chance of someone ignorant of the fearful curse attached to it being willing to buy or to rent it. Athens Doris the philosopher came to Athens and read the advertisement. When he had been informed of the terms which were so low as to appear suspicious he made inquiries and learned the whole of the particulars. Yet nonetheless on that account nay all the more readily did he rent the house. As evening began to draw on he ordered a sofa to be set for himself in the front part of the house and called for his notebooks, writing implements and a light. The whole of his servants he dismissed to the interior apartments and for himself applied his soul, eyes and hand to composition that his mind might not for want of occupation picked to to itself the phantoms of which he had heard or any empty terrors. At the commencement there was the universal silence of night. Soon the shaking of irons and the clanking of chains was heard yet he never raised his eyes nor slackened his pen but hardened his soul and deadened his ears by its help. The noise grew and approached. Now it seemed to be heard at the door and next inside the door he looked round beheld and recognised the figure he had been told of. It was standing and signalling to him with its finger as though inviting him. He replied made a sign with his hand that it should wait a moment and applied himself afresh to his tablets and pen. Upon this the figure kept rattling its chain for his head as he wrote. On looking round again he saw it making the same signal as before and without delay took up a light and followed it. It moved with a slow step as though oppressed by its chains and after turning into the courtyard of the house vanished suddenly and left his company. On being thus left to himself he marked the spot with some grass and leaves which he plucked. Next day he applied to the magistrates and asked them to have the spot in question dug up. There were found there some bones attached to and intermingled with fetters, the body to which they had belonged rotted away by time and the soil had abandoned them thus naked and corroded to the chains. They were collected and interred at the public expense and the house was ever afterward free from the spirit which had obtained due sepulture. The above story I believe on the strength of those who affirm it. What follows I am myself in position to affirm to others? I had a freed man who is not without some knowledge of letters. A younger brother of his was sleeping with him in the same bed. The latter dreamed he saw someone sitting on the couch who approached a pair of scissors to his head and even cut the hair from the crown of it. When day dawned he was found to be cropped round the crown and his locks were discovered lying about. A very short time afterwards a fresh occurrence of the same kind confirmed the truth of the former one. A lad of mine was sleeping in company with several others in the pager's apartment. They came through the window so he tells the story. Two figures in white tunics who cut his hair as he lay and departed the way they came. In his case too daylight exhibited him shorn and his locks scattered around. Nothing remarkable followed except perhaps this that I was not brought under accusation as I should have been if Domitian in whose reign these events happened had lived longer. For in his death was found an information against me which had been presented by Karras from which circumstance may be conjectured in as much as it is the custom of accused persons to let their hair grow that the cutting off of my slave's hair was a sign of the danger which threatened me being averted. I beg then that you will apply your great learning to this subject. The matter is one which deserves long and deep consideration on your part nor am I for my part undeserving of having the fruits of your wisdom imparted to me. You may even argue on both sides as your way is provided you argue more forcibly on one side than the other so as not to dismiss me in suspense and anxiety when the very cause of my consulting you has been to have my doubts put an end to. End of Letter to Sura Recording by Linda Ferguson The mother and the dead child by Hans Anderson This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Ellie The mother and the dead child by Hans Anderson A mother said by her little child she was very sorrowful and feared that it would die its little face was pale and its eyes were closed the child threw its breath with difficulty and sometimes so deeply as if it were sighing and then the mother looked more sorrowful than before on the little creature then there was a knock at the door and the poor old man came in wrapped up in something that looked like a grey Thor's cloth for that keeps warm and he required it for it was cold winter without everything was covered with ice and snow and the wind blew so sharply that it cut one's face and the old man trembled with cold and the child was quiet for a moment the mother went and put some beer on the stove and little pot to warm it for him the old man sat down and rocked the cradle and the mother seated herself on an old chair by him looked at her sick child and expressed so painfully and seized the little hand you think I shall keep it? do you not? she asked the good God will not take it from me the old man he was death nodded in such a strange way that it might just as well mean guess is no the mother cast down her eyes and tears rolled down her cheek her head became heavy for three days and three nights she had not closed her eyes and now she slept but only for a minute then she started up and she was cold what is that? she asked and looked around on all sides but the old man was gone and her little child was gone he had taken it with him and there in the corner the old clock was humming and whirring the heavy laden weight ran down to the floor and the clock stopped out in the snow said the woman in long black garments and she said this has been with you in your room I saw him hasten away with your child his strides faster than the wind and never brings back what he has taken away oh tell me which way he has gone said the mother tell me the way and I will find him I know him said the woman in black garments but before I tell you you must sing me all the songs that you have sung to your child I have heard them before I am Knight and I saw your tears when you sang them I will sing them all all said the mother but do not detain me that I may overtake him and find my child but Knight said dump and still then the mother ran her hands and sang and wept and there were many songs but yet more tears and then Knight said go to the ride into the dark fur wood for I saw death take that path with your little child deep in the forest there was a crossroad and she did not know which way to take there stood a black song bush it was not a leaf nor a blossom upon it for it was in the cold winter time and icicles hung from the twigs have you not seen death go by with my little child yes replied the bush but I shall not tell you which way he went unless you want me on your bosom I am freezing to death here I am turning to ice and she pressed the black song bush to her bosom quite close that it might be well warmed and the song pierced into her flesh and blood oozed out in great drops but the black song shot out fresh green leaves and blossomed in the dark winter night so warm is the heart of a soaring mother and the black song bush told her the way that she should go then she came to a great lake on which there was neither ships nor boat the lake was not frozen enough to carry her nor sufficiently open to allow her the way through and yet she must cross it if she was to find her child then she laid herself down to drink the lake and that was impossible for anyone to do but the soaring mother thought that perhaps a miracle might be brought no, that can never succeed said the lake let us rather see how we can agree I am fond of collecting pearls and your eyes are the two clearest I've ever seen if you will weep them out into me I'll carry you over into the great greenhouse where death lives and cultivates flowers in trees each of these is human life oh, what would I not give to get my child said the afflicted mother and she wept it more and her eyes fell into the depths of the lake and became two costly pearls but the lake lifted her up she sat in a swing and she was wafted to the opposite shore there stood a wonderful house miles in lengths one could not tell if it was a mountain containing forests and caves or a place that had been built but the poor mother could not see it for she had wept her eyes out where shall I find death who went away with my little child he has not arrived here yet said an old grey-haired woman who was going about and watching the hot house of death how have you found your way here who helped you the good God has helped me he is merciful and you will be merciful too where shall I find my little child I do not know it said the old woman and you cannot see many flowers and trees have faded this night and death will soon come and transplant them you know very well that every human being has his tree of life his flower of life just as each is arranged they look like other plants but their hearts beat children's hearts can beat too think of this perhaps you may recognize the beating of your child's heart but what will you give me if I tell you what more you must do I have nothing to give said the afflicted mother but I will go for you to the ends of the earth I have nothing for you to do there said the old woman but you can give me your long black hair you must know yourself that it is beautiful and it pleases me you can take my white hair for it and that is always something do you ask for nothing more she asked I will give you that gladly and she gave her beautiful hair and received in exchange the old woman's white hair and then they went into the great hot house of death where flowers and trees were growing marvelously intertwined there stood the fine higher sins under glass bells and some quite fresh others somewhat sickly water snakes were twining about them and black crabs clung tightly to the stalks there stood gallant palm trees oaks and platines and parsley and blooming thyme each tree and flower had its name each was a human life the people were still alive one in China and other in Greenland scattered about in the world there were great trees thrust into little pots so that they stood quite crowded and were nearly bursting the pots there was also many a little weekly flower in rich earth with moss around it cared for and tended but the sorrowful mother went down over the smallest plants and heard the human heart beating in each out of millions she recognized that of her child that is it she cried and stretched out her hands over the little crocus flower which hung down quite thick and pale do not touch the flower said the old man but place yourself here and when death comes I expect him every minute then don't let him pull up the plant but threaten him that you will do the same to the other plants then he'll be frightened he has to account for them all and not one may be pulled up till he receives commission from heaven at once there was an icy cold rush through the ball and the blind mother felt that death was arriving how did you find the way hither said he how have you been able to come quicker than I I am a mother she answered and death stretched out his long hands towards the little delicate flower but she kept her hands tight about it and held it fast and yet she was full of anxious care lest she should touch one of the leaves then death breathed upon her hands and she felt his breath was cold and in the icy wind and her hands sank down powerless you can do nothing against me said death but the merciful god can she replied I only do what he commands said death I am his gardener I take all his trees and flowers and transplant them into the great paradise gardens in the unknown land but how they will flourish here and how it is there I may not tell you give me back my child said the mother and she implored and webbed all at once she grasped two pretty flowers with her two hands and called to death I tear off all your flowers for I am in despair don't touch them said death you say you are so unhappy and now you would make another mother just as unhappy another mother said the poor woman let the flowers go there are your eyes for you said death I have fished them out of the lake they cleaned up quite brightly I did not know that they were yours take them back they are clearer now than before and then look down into the deep well close by I will tell you the names of the two flowers you wanted to pull up and you will see what you were about to frustrate and destroy and she looked down into the well and it was a happiness to see how one of them became a blessing to the world how much joy and gladness she diffused around her and the mother looked back at the life of the other and it was made up of care and poverty mystery and woe both are the will of God said death which of them is the flower of misfortune and which the blessed one she asked that I may not tell you answered death that one of these two flowers is death of your child it was fate of your child that you saw the future of your own child then the mother screamed aloud for terror which of them belongs to my child termited released innocent child let my child free from all that misery rather carry it the way carry it into God's kingdom forget my tears forget my entreaties and all that I've done understand you will you have your child back or shall I carry it to that place that you know not then the mother ran her hands and fell down on her knees and prayed to the good God hear me not when I pray against I will which is at all times the best hear me not and she let her head sink down to a bosom and death went away with her child into the unknown land end of the mother and the dead child by Hans Anderson recording by Ellie May 2009 Psalm of David The year had been a year of terror and of feelings more intense than terror for which there is no name upon the earth for many prodigies and signs had taken place and far and wide over sea and land the black wings of the pestilence were spread abroad to those nevertheless cunning in the stars it was not unknown that the heavens wore an aspect of ill and to me the Greek oenos among others it was evident that now there is no name among others it was evident that now had arrived the alternation of that 794th year when at the entrance of Aries the planet Jupiter is conjoined with the red ring of the terrible Saturnus the peculiar spirit of the skies if I mistake not greatly made itself manifest not only in the physical orb of the earth but in the souls, imaginations and meditations of mankind over some flasks of the red key and wine within the walls of a noble hall in a dim city called Ptolemaeus we sat at night a company of seven and the door was fashioned by the artisan Corianos and being a rare workmanship was fastened from within black draperies likewise in the gloomy room shut out from our view the moon the lurid stars and the peopleless streets but the boating and the memory of evil they would not be so excluded there were things around us on a bout of which I can render no distinct account things material and spiritual heaviness in the atmosphere a sense of suffocation anxiety and above all that terrible state of existence which the nervous experience when the senses are keenly living and awake and meanwhile the powers of thought lied dormant a dead weight hung upon us it hung upon our limbs upon the household furniture upon the goblets from which we drank and all things were depressed and born down thereby all things save only the flames of the seven lamps which illumined our revel uprearing themselves in tall slender lines of light they thus remained burning all pallid and motionless and in the mirror which their luster formed upon the round table of ebony at which we sat each of us there assembled a pallor of his own countenance and the unquiet glare in the downcast eyes of his companions yet we laughed and were merry in our proper way which was hysterical and sang the songs of anachryon which are madness and drank deeply although the purple wine reminded us of blood for there was yet another tenant of our chamber in the person of young Zoelos dead and at full length he lay and shrouded the genius and the demon of the scene alas he bore no portion in our mirth save that his countenance distorted with the plague and his eyes in which death had but half extinguished the fire of the pestilence seemed to take such interest in our merriment as the dead may happily take in the merriment of those who are about to die but although I, Oinos felt that the eyes of the departed were upon me still I forced myself not to perceive the bitterness of their expression and gazing down steadily into the depths of the ebony mirror sang with a loud and sonorous voice the songs of the son of Teos but gradually my songs they ceased and their echoes rolling afar off among the sable draperies of the chamber became weak and undistinguishable and so faded away and lo from among those sable draperies where the sounds of the song departed there came forth a dark and undefined shadow a shadow such as the moon when low in heaven might fashion from the figure of a man but it was the shadow neither of man nor of God nor of any familiar thing and quivering a while among the draperies of the room it had length rested in full view upon the surface of the door of brass but the shadow was vague and formless and indefinite and it was the shadow neither of man nor of God neither God of Greece nor God of Kaldia nor any Egyptian God and the shadow rested upon the brazen doorway and under the arch of the entablature of the door and moved not nor spoke any word but there became stationary and remained and the door where upon the shadow rested was, if I remember are right over against the feet of the young zoilus and shrouded the seven there assembled having seen the shadow as it came out from among the draperies dared not steadily behold it but cast down our eyes and gazed continually into the depths of the mirror of Ebony and at length I, Oenos speaking some low words demanded of the shadow its dwelling at its appellation and the shadow answered I am shadow and my dwelling is near to the catacombs and heard by those dim plains of Halucian which border upon the foul Cheronean canal and then did we the seven start from our seats in horror and stand trembling and shuddering and agast for the tones in the voice of the shadow were not the tones of any one being but of a multitude of beings and varying in their cadences from syllable to syllable fell duskly upon our ears in the well remembered familiar accents of many thousand departed friends end of shadow a parable recording by Sean Michael Hogan Saint John's Newfoundland, Canada The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Tell-Tale Heart True Nervous Very, very dreadfully nervous I have been and am But why will you say that I am mad The disease has sharpened my senses not destroyed not dulled them Above all was my sense of hearing acute I heard all things in heaven not dulled them above all was my sense of hearing acute above all was my sense of hearing acute above all was my sense of hearing acute I heard all things in heaven I heard all things in heaven and earth I heard many things in hell I heard many things in hell I heard many things in hell How then am I mad? Hogan and observe how how calmly I can tell you the whole story It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain that once conceived it haunted me day and night object there was none passion there was none I loved the old man he had never wronged me he had never given me insult for his gold I had no desire I think it was his eye Yes it was this one of his eyes resembled that of a vulture a pale blue eye with a film over it and whenever it fell upon me my blood ran cold and so by degrees very gradually I made up my mind to take the life of the old man and thus rid myself of the eye forever now this is the point you fancy me mad madmen know nothing that you should have seen me you should have seen how wisely I proceeded with what caution with what foresight with what dissimulation I went to work I was never kinder to the old man during the whole week before I killed him and every night about midnight I turned the latch of his door and opened it so gently and then when I had made an opening sufficient in my head I put in a dark lantern all closed closed so that no light shone out and then I thrust in my head oh you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in I moved it slowly very very slowly so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep it took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far I could see him as he lay upon his bed would a madman have been so wise as this and then when my head was well in the room I undid the lantern cautiously oh so cautiously cautiously for the hinges creed I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye and this I did for seven long nights every night just at midnight but I found the eye always closed so it was impossible to do the work for it was not the old man who vexed me but his evil eye and every morning when the day broke I went boldly into his chamber and spoke courageously to him calling him by name in a hearty tone and inquiring how he had spent the night so you see he would have been a very profound old man indeed to suspect that every night just at twelve I looked in upon him while he slept upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door a watcher's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers of my sagacity I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph to think that there I was opening the door little by little and he did not even dream of my secret deeds or thoughts I fairly chuckled at the idea perhaps he heard me for he moved on the bed suddenly as if startled you might think I drew back but no his room was black as pitch with the thick darkness but the shutters were closed fussent through fear of robbers and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door and I kept pushing it on steadily steadily I had my head in and was about to open the lantern when my thumb slipped on the tin fastening and the old man sprang up in bed crying out who's there I kept quiet still and said nothing for a whole hour I did not move a muscle and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down he was still sitting up in bed listening just as I have done night after night harkening to the death watchers in the wall presently I heard a slight groan and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror it was not a groan of grief or pain oh no it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe I knew the sound well many a night just at midnight when all the world slept it as welled up from my own boson deepening with its dreadful echo the terrors that distracted me I say I knew it well I knew what the old man felt and pitied him though I chuckled at heart I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise when he had turned into the bed his fears had been ever since growing upon him he had been trying to fancy them causeless but could not he had been saying to himself oh it's nothing but the wind in the chimney it's only a mouse crossing the floor or it is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp yes he had been trying to comfort himself with all these suppositions but he had found all in vain all in vain all in vain all in vain all in vain all in vain all in vain because death in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him and enveloped the victim and it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel although he neither saw nor heard to feel the presence of my head within the room when I had waited a long time very patiently without hearing him lie down I resolved to open a little a very very little crevice in the lantern so I opened it you cannot imagine how stealthily stealthily until at length a single dim ray like the thread of a spider shot out from the crevice and fall upon the vulture eye it was open wide wide open and I grew furious as I gazed upon it I saw it with perfect distinctness all a dull blue with a hideous veil over it that chewed the very marrow of my bones but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person for I had directed the ray as if by instinct precisely on that damned spot and now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses now I say there came to my ears a low dull quick sound such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton I knew that sound well too it was the beating of the old man's heart it increased my fury as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier to courage but even yet I refrained and kept still I scarcely breathed I held a lantern motionless I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye mean time the hellish tattoo of the heart increased it grew quicker and quicker and louder and louder every instant the old man's terror must have been extreme it grew louder I say louder every moment do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous and so I am and now at that dead hour of night to mid the dreadful silence of that old house so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror yet longer I refrained and stood still but the beating grew louder louder I thought the heart must burst and now a new anxiety seized me the sound would be heard by a neighbour the old man's hour had come with a loud yell I threw open the lantern and lept into the room he shrieked once once only and in an instant I dragged him to the floor and pulled their heavy bed over him I then smiled gaily to find the deed so far done but for many minutes the heart beat on with a muffled sound this however did not vex me it would not be heard through a wall and at length it ceased the old man was dead I removed the bed and examined the corpse yes he was stone stone dead I placed my hand upon the heart and told it there many minutes there was no pulsation he was stone dead his eye would trouble me no more if you still think me mad you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body the night waned and I worked hastily but in silence first of all I dismembered the corpse I cut off the head and the arms and the legs then I took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber and deposited all between the scantlings I then replaced the board so cleverly so cunningly that no human eye not even his could have detected anything wrong there was nothing to wash out no stain of any kind no blood spot whatever I had been too weary for that a tub had caught all and when I made an end of these labours it was four o'clock still as dark as midnight as the bell sounded the hour there came a knocking at the street door I went down to open it with a light heart for what had I now to fear there entered three men who introduced themselves with perfect swabity as officers of the police a shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night suspicion of foul play had been aroused information had been lodged at the police office and they, the officers had been deputed to search the premises I smiled for what had I to fear I baked the gentleman welcome the shriek I said was my own in a dream the old man I mentioned was absent in the country I took my visitors all over the house I made them search search well I led them at length to his chamber I showed them his treasures secure undisturbed in the enthusiasm of my confidence I bought a chair into the room and desired them here to rest from their fatigues while I myself in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which resided the corpse of the victim the officers were satisfied my manner had convinced them I was singularly at ease they sat and while I answered cheerily they patted familiar things but ere long I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone my head ached and I fainted a ringing in my ears but still they sat and still chatted the ringing became more distinct it continued and became more distinct I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling but it continued and gained definiteness until at length I found the noise was not within my ears no doubt I grew very pale but I talked more fluently and with a heightened voice yet the sound increased and what could I do it was a low dull quick sound much like the sound the watch makes when enveloped in cotton I gasped for breath and yet the officers heard it not I talked more quickly more vehemently but the noise steadily increased I rose and argued about trifles in a high key and with violent gesticulations but the noise steadily increased why would they not be gone I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides as if excited to fury by the observation of the men but the noise steadily increased oh god what could I do I phoned I raved I swore I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting and grated it upon the boards but the noise arose over all and continually increased it grew louder and louder and louder but still the men chatted pleasantly and smiled was it possible they heard not almighty god no no they heard they suspected they knew they were making a mockery of my horror this I thought and this I think but anything was better than this agony anything more tolerable than this derision I could bear these hypocritical smiles no longer I felt that I must scream or die and now again hark louder louder louder villains sweet the symbol no more I admit the deed tear up the planks here here it is the beating of his hideous the tell-tale heart this is a leverbox recording all leverbox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit leverbox.org a tropical horror by William Hope Hodgson we are 130 days out of Melbourne and for three weeks we had lain in this swiltering calm it is midnight and our watch on deck until 4 a.m. I go out and sit on the hatch a minute later jokie our youngest apprentice joins me for a chatter many are the hours we have sat thus and talked in the night watches though to be sure it is jokie who does the talking I am content to smoke and listen giving the occasional grunt at seasons to show that I am attentive jokie has been silent for some time his head ment in meditation suddenly he looks up evidently with the intent of making some remark as he does so I see his face stiffen with a nameless horror he crouches back his eyes staring past me at some unseen fear then his mouth opens he gives forth a strangled cry and topples backwards off the hatch striking his head against the deck fearing I know not what I turn to look great heavens rising above the bulwark seen plainly in the bright moonlight is a vast slobbering mouth a fathym across from the huge dripping lips hang great tentacles as I look the thing comes further over the rail it is rising rising higher and higher there are no eyes visible only that fearful slobbering mouth set on the tremendous trunk like neck which even as I watch is curling inboard the stealth celerity of an enormous eel over it comes in vast heaving folds will it never end the ship gives a slow sullen roll to starboard as he feels the weight then the tail a broad blood shaped mass over the teak rail and falls with a loud slump on the deck for a few seconds the hideous creature lies heaped in writhing slimy coils then with quick darting movements the monstrous head travels along the deck close by the main mass stands the harness casks and alongside these a freshly opened cask of salt beef with the top loosely replaced the smell of the meat seems to attract the monster and I can hear it sniffing with a vast in drawing breath then those lips open displaying four huge fangs there is a quick forward motion of the head a sudden crashing crunching sound and beef and barrel have disappeared the noise brings one of the ordinary semen out of the full castle coming into the night he can see nothing for the moment then as he gets further apt he sees and with horrified cries rushes far too late from the mouth of the thing there flashes forth a long broad blade of glistening white set with fierce teeth I avert my eyes but cannot shut out the sickening blood glutt that follows the man on the lookout attracted by the disturbance has witnessed the tragedy and flies for refuge in the full castle flinging to the heavy iron door after him the carpenter and the sail maker come running out of the half deck in their drawers seeing the awful thing they rush aft to the cabin with shouts of fear the second mate after one glance over the break of the poop runs down the companion way with the helmsman after him I can hear them scuddle and abruptly I realize that I am on the main deck alone so far I have forgotten my own danger the past few minutes seem like a portion of an awful dream now however I comprehend my position and shaking off the heart that has held me turned to seek safety as I do so my eyes fall upon jokie lying huddled in senseless with fright where he has fallen I cannot leave him there close by stands the empty half deck a little still built house with iron doors the lee one is hooked open once inside I am safe up to the present the thing has seemed to be unconscious of my presence now however the huge barrel like head sways in my direction then comes a muffled bellow and the great tongue flickers in and out as the brute turns and swirls up to meet me I know there's not a moment to lose and picking up the helpless lad I make a run for the open door it is only distant a few yards but that awful shape is coming down the deck to me in great right in coils I reach the house and tumble in with my burden then out on the deck again to unhook and close the door even as I do so something white curls around the end of the house with a bound I am inside and the door is shut and bolted through the thick glass of the port I see the thing sweep from the house in a vain search for me is not moved yet so kneeling down I loosen his shirt collar and speak of some water from the breaker over his face while I am doing this I hear Morgan shout something become a great shrieka terror and again that sickening glut jokie stirs uneasily rubs his eyes and sits up suddenly what was Morgan shouting he breaks off with a cry where are we I had I have had such an awful dream at that instant there's a sound of running footsteps on the deck and I hear his voice at the door Tom open he stops abruptly and gets an awful cry to spare then I hear him rush forward through the porthole I see him spring into the four rigging and scramble madly aloft something steals up after him it shows white in the moonlight it wraps itself around his right ankle Morgan stops dead plucks out his sheath knife and hacks fiercely at the finger sing it let's go and in a second he is over the top of the mountain for dear life of the to gallant rigging a time of quiet follows and presently I see that the day is breaking not a sound can be heard save the heavy gasping breathing of the thing as the sun rises higher the creature stretches itself out along the deck and seems to enjoy the warmth still no sound either from the men forward or the officer's aft I can only suppose they're afraid of attracting its attention yet I hear the rep heart of a pistol way aft and looking out I see the servant raise its huge head as so listening as it does so I get a huge view of the four part and in the daylight see what the night has hidden there right about the mouth is a pair of little pig eyes that seem to twinkle with a diabolical intelligence it is swaying his head slowly from side to side and then without warning it turns quickly and looks right in through the port I dodge out of sight but not soon enough it has seen me and brings its great mouth up against the glass I hold my breath my god if it breaks the glass I cower horrified from the direction of the port that comes a loud harsh scraping I shiver then I remember that there are little iron doors to shut over the port in bad weather without a moment's waste of time and slam to the door over the port then I go around the others and do the same we are now in darkness and I tell jokie in a whisper to light the lamp which after some thumbling he does about an hour before midnight I fall asleep I am awakened suddenly some hours later by a scream of agony and the rattle of a water dipper there is a slight scuffling sound than that soul revolting glut glut I guess what has happened one of the men farad has slipped out of the full castle to try and get little water evidently he has trusted to the darkness to hide his movements poor beggar he has paid for his attempt with his life after this I cannot sleep though the rest of the night passes quietly enough tards morning I doze a bit but wake every few minutes with a start jokie is sleeping peacefully indeed he seems worn out with a terrible strain of the past 24 hours about 8am I call him and we make a light breakfast off the dry ships, biscuits and water of the latter happily we have a good supply jokie seems more himself and starts to talk a little possibly somewhat louder than the safe for as he chatters on wondering how it will end there comes a tremendous blow against the side of the house making it ring again after this jokie is very silent as we sit there I cannot but wonder what all the rest are doing and how the poor beggars forad are faring cooped up without water as the tragedy of the night has probed tards noon I hear a loud bang followed by a terrific bellowing then comes a great smashing of woodwork and the cries of men in pain vainly I ask myself what has happened I begin to reason by the sound of the report it was evident something much heavier than a rifle or pistol and judging from the mad roaring of the thing the shot must have done some execution on thinking it over further I become convinced that by some means those oft have got hold of the small signal cannon we carry and though I know that some have been hurt perhaps killed yet a feeling of exultation ceases me as I listen to the roars of the thing and realize that it is badly wounded perhaps mortally after a while however the bellowing dies away and only an occasional roar denoting more of anger than out else is hurt presently I become aware for the ship's canting over the starboard that the creature has gone over to that side and a great hope springs up within me that possibly it has had enough of us and is going over the rail into the sea for a time all is silent and my hopes grow stronger I lean across a nudge jokie who is sleeping with his head on the table he starts up sharply with a loud cry hush I whisper hoarsely I'm not certain but I do believe it's gone jokie's face brightens wonderfully and he questions me eagerly we wait another hour or so with hope ever rising our confidence is returning fast not a sound can we hear not even the breathing of the beast I get out some biscuits and jokie after runging in the locker produces a small piece of pork and a bottle of ship's vinegar we fall to with relish after our long abstinence from food the meal acts on us like wine and what must jokie do but assist on opening the door to make sure the thing is gone this I will not allow telling him that at least it would be safe to open the iron port covers first and have a look out jokie argues but I am immovable he becomes excited I believe the young sir is light headed then as I turn to unscrew one of the after covers jokie makes a dash for the door before he get undo the bolts I have him and after a short struggle I go back to the table even as I endeavor to quiet him there comes at the starboard door the door that jokie has tried to open a sharp loud sniff sniff followed immediately by a thunderous running howl and a foul stench of putrid breath sweeps in under the door a great trembling takes me and were it not for the carpenter's tool chest I should fall jokie turns very white and is violently sick and is pleased by a hopeless fit of sobbing hour after hour passes and weary to death I lie down on the chest upon which I have been sitting and tried to rest it must be about half past two in the morning after a somewhat longer dose that I am suddenly awakened by a most tremendous uproar a way forward men's voices shrieking cursing, praying but in spite of the terror expressed so weak and feeble while in the mist and at times broken off short with that hellishly suggestive glut, glut is the unearthly bellwing of the thing fear incarnate ceases me and I can only fall to my knees and pray too well I know what is happening jokie has slept through it all and I am thankful presently under the door there's stills a narrow ribbon of light and I know that the day has broken on the second morning of our imprisonment I let jokie sleep on I will let him have peace while he may time passes but I take little notice the thing is quiet possibly sleeping about midday I eat a little biscuit and drink some water jokie still sleeps it is best so a sound breaks the stillness the ship gives a slight heap and I know that once more the thing is awake round the deck it moves causing the ship to roll perceptively once it goes far I fancy to again to explore the full castle evidently it finds nothing for it returns almost immediately it pauses a moment at the house then goes on further aft up a loft similar in the four rigging there rings out a pill of wow laughter though sounding very faint and far away the horror stops suddenly I listen intently but hear nothing safe a sharp creaking beyond the after end of the house as so a strain had come upon the rigging a minute later I hear a cry a loft followed almost immediately by a loud crash on the deck that seems to shake the ship I wait in anxious fear what is happening the minutes pass slowly then comes another frightened shout it ceases suddenly the suspense has become terrible and I am no longer able to bear it very cautiously I open one of the after port covers and peep out to see a fearful sight there with its tail upon the deck and its vast body curled around the main mass is a monster its head above the top cell yard and its great claw armed tentacles weaving in the air the first proper sight that I have had of the thing good heavens it must weigh a hundred tons knowing that I shall have time I open the port itself and then crane my head out and look up there on the extreme end of the lower top cell yard I see one of the able seamen even down here I know the staring a horror of his face at this moment he sees me and gives a weak horse cry for help I can do nothing for him as I look the great tongue shoots out and licks him off the yard much as might a dog fly off the winter pain higher still but happily out of reach or to more of the men as far as I can judge they are lashed to the mast above the royal yard the thing attempts to reach them but after a feudal effort it ceases and starts to slide down coil by coil to the deck while doing this I notice a great gaping moon on its bodies and 20 feet above the tail I drop my gaze from a loft and look aft the cabin door is torn from his hinges and the bulkhead which unlike the half deck is of tweakwood is partly broken down with a shutter I realize the cause of those cries after the cannon shot turning I screw my head round and try to see my foremast but cannot the sun I notice is low and night is near then I draw in my head and fasten up both port and cover how will it end oh how will it end after a while doke wakes up he is very restless yet though he has eaten nothing during the day I cannot get him to touch anything night draws on we are too weary too dispirited to talk I lie down but not to sleep time passes a ventilator rattles violently somewhere on the main deck and there sounds constantly that slurring gritty noise later I hear a cat agonize how and then again sometime after comes a great splash alongside then for some hours all is silent as the grave occasionally I sit up on the chest and listen yet never a whisper of noise comes to me there is an absolute silence even the monotonous creek of the gear has died away entirely and at last a real hope is springing up within me that splash the silence surely I am justified in hoping I do not wake jokie this time I will prove first for myself that all is safe still I wait I will run no unnecessary risks after a time I creep up to the altar for it and listen but there is no sound I put up my hand and feel at the screw then again I hesitated yet not for long noise solisly I begin to unscrew the fastening of the heavy shield it swings loose on its hinge and I pull it back and peer out my heart is beating madly everything seems strangely dark outside perhaps the moon has gone behind a cloud suddenly a beam of moonlight enters through the port and it goes as quickly I stare out something moves again the light streams in and now I seem to be looking into a great cavern at the bottom of which quivers and curls something pale white my heart seems to stand still it is a horror I start back and seize the iron port flap to slam as I do so it strikes a glass like a steam ram shatters it to atoms and flicks past me into the berth I scream a spring away the port is quite filled with it the lamp shows it dimly it is curling and twisting here and there it is as thick as a tree and covered with a smooth slimy skin at the end of it is a great claw like a lobsters only a thousand times larger I cower down in the farthest corner it has broken the tool test to pieces and with one click of those frightful jokie has crawled under a bunk the thing swoops round in my direction I feel a drop of sweat trickles slowly down my face it tastes salty nearer comes that awful death CRASH! I roll over backwards it has crushed the water breaker against which I faint and I'm rolling in the water across the floor the claw drives up then down with a quick uncertain moment striking the deck a dull hollow blow a foot from my head jokie gives a little gas of heart slowly the thing rises and starts feeling its way around the berth it plunges into a bunk and pulls out a bolster nips it in half and drops it then moves on it is feeling along the deck as it does so it comes across a half of the bolster it seems to toy with it then pick it up it takes it out through the port a wave of putrid air fills the berth there is a grating sound and something enters the port again white and tapering and set with teeth hither and thither it crawls rasping over the bunks ceiling and deck with a noise like that of a great saw at work twice it flickers above my head and I close my eyes then off it goes again it sounds now on the opposite side of the berth and nearer to jokie suddenly the harsh rasping noise becomes muffled as so the teeth were passing across some soft substance jokie gives a horrid little scream then breaks off in a bubbling whistling sound I open my eyes a tip of the vast tongue is curled tightly around something that drips then is quickly withdrawn allowing the moonbeams to steal again into the berth I rise to my feet looking around I note in a mechanical sort of way the wrecked state of the berth the shattered chests the dismantled bunks and something else jokie I cry and tingle all over there is that awful thing again at the port I glance around for a weapon I will revenge jokie ah they're right under the lamp where the wreck of the carpet's chest screws the floor like a small hatchet I spring forward and seize it it is small so keen so keen I feel it's razor's edge lovingly then I am back at the port I stand to one side and raise my weapon the great tongue is feeling it's to those fearsome remains it reaches them and as it does so with a scream of jokie jokie I strike savagely again and again and again gasping as I strike once more and the monstrous mass falls to the deck writhing like a hideous eel a vast warmth flood rushes in to the port hole there is a sound of breaking steel and an enormous bellowing a singing comes in my ears and grows louder, louder then the birth grows indistinct and suddenly dark extract from the log of the steamship Hispionida June 24th latitude north longitude west 11am sighted four masted barge about four points on the port bow flying signal of distress ran down to her and sent a boat aboard she proved to be the glendoon homeward bound from Melbourne to London found things in a terrible state decks covered with blood and slime steel deckhouse stove in broke open door and discovered youth of about 19 in the last stages of a nation also part remains a boy about 14 years of age there was a great quantity of blood in the place and a huge curled mass of whitish flesh weighing about half a tonne one end of which appeared to have been hacked through with a sharp instrument found four castle door open and hanging from one hinge doorway bulged I saw something have been forced through went inside terrible state of affairs blood everywhere broken chests smashed bunk but no men nor remains went apt again and found youth showing signs of recovery when he came around gave the name of Thompson said he had been attacked by a huge serpent though it must have been sea serpent he was too weak to say much but told us there were some men up in the main mast sent a hand loft who reported them lashed to the royal masts and quite dead went after the cabin here found the bulkhead smashed pieces in the cabin door laying on the deck near the after hatch found body of captain down lasered but no officers noticed among the wreckage part of the carriage of a small cannon came aboard again have sent second mate with six men to work her into port Thompson is with us he has written out his version of the affair we certainly consider that state of the ship as we found her bears out in every respect his story signed William Norton master Tom Briggs first mate the end of a tropical tar