Dear Marie Celeste,
Dear Marie Celeste,
To put it properly, you never existed except in "J. Habakuk Jepson's Statement," a short story by an Arthur Conan Doyle who had not yet received knightship, not yet even imagined Sherlock Holmes's address. For sure, your ancestor in history, the Mary Celeste, a New York-based half-brig bound for Italy, turned up near Gibraltar in working order with cargo aboard and without its crew. For sure, you caused a stir, but only stayed in the news as long as it took the crew of "The Latin" to disappear (and they, incidentally, were later usurped by the missing crew of the still-sea-worthy "Perin", which later yielded the public eye to the crew of the adrift "Marantha", and so on and so forth).
Twelve years later Doyle wrote the story that won you your present intrigue. But don't believe it. Marie, the rowboat was gone. The ropes were down, trailing in the water behind the ship. The cabin was clean of blood, the captain's bunk was a drenched mess, the chronometer and sextant were gone. We don't know where they went or why, but, Marie, don't fool yourself, don't believe theories on mutiny, piracy or time travel. Don't believe it. They left you.
Sincerely,
AP Saulters
To put it properly, you never existed except in "J. Habakuk Jepson's Statement," a short story by an Arthur Conan Doyle who had not yet received knightship, not yet even imagined Sherlock Holmes's address. For sure, your ancestor in history, the Mary Celeste, a New York-based half-brig bound for Italy, turned up near Gibraltar in working order with cargo aboard and without its crew. For sure, you caused a stir, but only stayed in the news as long as it took the crew of "The Latin" to disappear (and they, incidentally, were later usurped by the missing crew of the still-sea-worthy "Perin", which later yielded the public eye to the crew of the adrift "Marantha", and so on and so forth).
Twelve years later Doyle wrote the story that won you your present intrigue. But don't believe it. Marie, the rowboat was gone. The ropes were down, trailing in the water behind the ship. The cabin was clean of blood, the captain's bunk was a drenched mess, the chronometer and sextant were gone. We don't know where they went or why, but, Marie, don't fool yourself, don't believe theories on mutiny, piracy or time travel. Don't believe it. They left you.
Sincerely,
AP Saulters