The Ghostly Brigantine
Wealthy businessman Roman Talbot and his wife, Glynnis, were enjoying a late summer vacation, sailing the Atlantic in their yacht, the Nantucket Pearl. Having left New York five weeks earlier, they sailed past the Azores and were approaching the Bay of Gibraltar.
When Roman went up on deck after ending a phone call to his accountant, he saw his wife lounging in a deck chair with a visor pulled over her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun and an open book resting on her stomach.
"What are you reading?" he asked.
Glynnis looked up at him, squinted and said, "Mary Higgins Clark's latest book."
"Another mystery?" Roman laughed. "You should have been a detective instead of a history teacher."
"Historians are detectives who solve the mysteries of the past," Glynnis replied.
"Speaking of mysteries from the past, we must be in the general area where they found the Maria Catherine."
"I've heard that name before. Wasn't that a famous shipwreck?"
"Not a wreck. It was a ghost ship."
Glynnis was immediately intrigued.
"What do you mean?"
"Back in 1872 the Maria Catherine left New York bound for Genoa, Italy. A thirty-seven-year-old captain, Barnabas Sebring, was at the helm. Also aboard the vessel were Sebring's thirty-year-old wife, Minerva, their two-year-old daughter and a seven-man crew. A month after leaving port, the ship was seen entering the Bay of Gibraltar. The captain of a British vessel saw it sailing erratically, and when he could spot no one on deck with his spyglass, he dispatched a boarding party to investigate. They found the Maria Catherine fully provisioned and perfectly seaworthy. Its cargo of grain alcohol was intact, but no one was on board."
"What happened to everyone?"
Roman shrugged.
"The boarding party reported that the captain and crew must have left in great haste, leaving behind their oil skin boots and smoking pipes. There had been nothing amiss in the ship's log, but the lifeboat was gone, and neither the chronometer nor the sextant was found onboard."
"Did the lifeboat or any of its passengers ever turn up?"
"No. There have been many speculations as to why the captain and his family and crew abandoned the ship and what happened to them afterward, but they're just theories."
"And it happened right around here?" Glynnis asked dreamily.
Roman laughed. Given his wife's passion for mystery movies and detective novels, he was sure that her "little gray cells" were working hectically to think of a solution to the long-standing mystery of the Maria Catherine.
"Give it up, honey," he said. "This isn't an Agatha Christie novel. You're not going to find a tidy explanation at the end of the last chapter. It's a gorgeous day. Why don't we go for a swim, Sherlock?"
Glynnis tossed her book and visor onto a nearby deck chair, threw her towel at her husband and laughingly challenged, "Last one in has to cook dinner tonight, Watson."
Then she did a graceful swan dive off the deck and into the ocean.
"Not fair. I didn't stand a chance in that contest," Roman protested and then he, too, jumped over the side of the Nantucket Pearl.
When he resurfaced, he looked for his wife but couldn't find her. He braced himself, believing she would come up behind him and try to startle him, but there was still no sign of her.
"Glynnis?" he called, wondering how long she could hold her breath.
With each passing moment, Roman's fear grew. Finally, he shouted to the crew for help.
* * *
When Glynnis's head came up out of the water, she called to her husband, "You lose! I get to finish reading my book while you're slaving away in the galley."
She turned around. Roman wasn't there and neither was the Nantucket Pearl! About one hundred yards away a two-masted, hundred-foot brigantine floated on the waves.
"Ahoy," she cried, signaling one of the crewmen.
The man went about his business and paid no attention to the woman in the water. Glynnis swam toward the ship and called again, but there was still no answer. She ascended the rope ladder and climbed on deck.
"Hello," she called.
The crewman took no notice of her. Was he deaf?
"Is anyone here?" she cried loudly.
A toddler, about two years of age, came out on deck, followed by her anxious mother.
"Lorelei," the woman called. "You have to stay here where I can keep an eye on you."
Glynnis stared in awe. Both the child and the woman were wearing clothes from the late nineteenth century.
"Excuse me," she said calmly, despite her growing panic.
But the woman, like the crewman, was oblivious to her presence.
Glynnis looked about her and saw three hundred and sixty degrees of unbroken horizon. There was no land or even another ship in sight. She had no alternative but to remain an unseen passenger on the Maria Catherine.
* * *
Captain Demetrius Prowse looked at his employer with compassion.
"It's no use, sir. She's been down there over an hour."
Roman knew there was no chance that his wife was still alive, but he hated to give up the search. Without seeing her body, he would always have a nagging doubt and would blame himself for not doing more to save her. Reluctantly, he climbed back onboard the ship.
"It'll be dark soon. We'll stay here overnight. Perhaps tomorrow morning ...."
His words trailed off as he made his way to his cabin.
"Prowse," he suddenly called over his shoulder, "I can't sleep in there tonight."
"I understand, sir. Why don't you stay in my cabin? I don't mind sleeping below deck."
* * *
Glynnis tried to remain calm. As of yet, she had not been physically harmed in any way, but she longed to be back in her world, aboard the Nantucket Pearl with her husband. Her desire to return to Roman notwithstanding, she did experience a growing sense of wonder. The armchair detective inside her was trying to solve the real-life mystery in which she found herself embroiled.
"I know I'm not dreaming," she reasoned. "And I don't believe I'm hallucinating because everything is too clear. I suppose one of two things has happened to me. Either I've traveled back in time or else I'm in some alternate dimension. Perhaps this stretch of water is a doorway like the Bermuda Triangle."
As she mused about how she had come to be aboard the Maria Catherine, Glynnis idly watched the people around her acting out a hundred-and-thirty-year-old drama. Their unfolding story soon became more interesting than the cause of her inexplicable journey.
The crew of the Maria Catherine consisted of a First Mate, a Second Mate, a steward who doubled as a cook and four German seamen. One of these sailors, a well-built, handsome young man, seemed to be paying quite a bit of attention to the captain's wife. The woman, for her part, seemed unaware of his interest, but the man's covetous glances did not escape the watchful eye of her husband.
"Minerva," he called gently, "I think you should take Lorelei back to the cabin now."
Captain Sebring knew the strain that a long sea voyage placed on most men. He also believed that having a woman aboard a ship could greatly increase that strain. As yet there had been no problems, but he would have to keep a careful watch on the crewmen and see that his wife kept her distance.
* * *
Roman couldn't sleep that night. He tossed and turned and jumped at every sound.
More than once he had called out hopefully, "Glynnis? Is that you?"
But there was no reply.
At the first sight of daylight, he rushed out on deck and scanned the surface of the water. There was no sign of a body anywhere.
"Orders, sir?" Prowse asked quietly.
Roman's shoulders sagged. It was now time to face the inevitable.
"Head for shore, captain. I'll have to report my wife's disappearance to the proper authorities."
* * *
Glynnis, still invisible to all aboard the Maria Catherine, followed Captain Sebring into his cabin.
"My dear," he said, lovingly placing his arm around his wife's shoulder, "I think it best if you avoid any contact with the crew."
Minerva looked up into her husband's worried eyes. What she saw frightened her.
"Was it a mistake for me to come along on this voyage, Barnabas?"
"I don't know," he replied honestly. "But you're here now, and I have no intention of putting you out to sea in the lifeboat."
They both laughed softly.
"So we'll just have to make the best of it," Barnabas concluded, "and wait and see what happens."
Glynnis felt faint, and her vision blurred momentarily. When she could see clearly again, she noticed that she was not moving through time at the same rate as those around her. What had been only moments to her appeared to have been days to those aboard the Maria Catherine.
Captain Sebring, clean-shaven only a moment before, now had three or four days' growth of beard on his chin. His previously pleasant face appeared haggard and troubled. Minerva also looked as though she were under a great deal of stress.
"Did you speak to him?" she inquired nervously.
The captain nodded sadly.
"He said that you misunderstood him and that he didn't mean any disrespect."
"Misunderstood?" his wife repeated indignantly. "The man grabbed me and tried to kiss me."
A pained expression came over Barnabas's face.
"Don't you believe me?" Minerva asked.
"You know I do, darling."
"But you're not going to do anything about it, are you?"
"Of course, I will. As soon as we put into port, I'll replace him."
"Is that all?"
"What do you want me to do? Have him keelhauled?"
"You might at least ...."
A cry of pain sounded from the bridge.
"What was that?" Minerva asked with fear.
"You and Lorelei stay here and keep the cabin door locked."
* * *
The police questioned Roman Talbot concerning the whereabouts of his wife. It was apparent that they thought he had a hand in her disappearance.
"I told you; she dove into the water and then disappeared," Roman repeated his story.
"You are a very rich man, Mr. Talbot," the local investigator observed suspiciously. "Did you have your wife sign a prenuptial agreement when you were married?"
"I didn't kill my wife, Detective. In fact, I did my damnedest to find her."
"Did you really?"
Despite his grief, Roman feared for his freedom. After all, he was not in America where a man was innocent until proven guilty.
"I want to talk to my lawyer," he said firmly.
* * *
Glynnis was transported out of the captain's cabin and found herself on deck, witness to a confrontation that was taking place there.
Seaman Heinrich Nagel advanced threateningly toward Captain Sebring.
"Put the gun down, Heinrich," the Captain warned.
But the disturbed man, afraid the captain would exact cruel punishment on him for his improper behavior toward Mrs. Sebring, had lost his mind. He had cold-bloodedly bludgeoned his three fellow crewmen to death while they slept. Then he killed the steward and both mates. The only survivors were Heinrich himself, Captain Sebring, Mrs. Sebring, two-year-old Lorelei and the unseen Glynnis Talbot.
"You don't want to kill me, Heinrich. If you do, the authorities will hunt you down and charge you with mutiny."
Nagel, however, had already killed six men and would surely hang regardless of any action he took against his captain. His only hope of escaping the noose was to leave no witnesses to his crime. Therefore, the captain had to die.
Barnabas, although a strong man, was no match for the large German. Glynnis could only watch helplessly while Heinrich killed Captain Sebring and threw his body overboard.
* * *
Roman sat on the edge of the king-size bed in his hotel room, lost in a world of profound grief and memories of happier times. He recalled the day he met Glynnis and their storybook courtship. They had been married a mere three years. During that time, they sailed around the world whenever possible, hoping to quench their wanderlust before settling down to raise a family. Now those dreams had come to a sudden, tragic end.
"Oh, Glynnis," Roman sobbed.
* * *
Heinrich Nagel leaned against the rail, exhausted by having carried six bodies out on deck and disposing of them in the deep Atlantic. After the splash made by the captain's body, a deadly silence descended upon the Maria Catherine.
Then a woman's voice broke the peace.
"Barnabas?" Minerva called cautiously. "Are you all right?"
In his murderous rampage, Heinrich had forgotten about the wife and daughter. An evil smile spread across his face as he remembered the softness of the woman's body.
"Barnabas? What has happened?"
Heinrich knew he could not answer her. She was sure to distinguish his heavily accented speech from that of her husband. But a groan was a groan in English or German. Heinrich moaned loudly, sounding like a man in pain.
"Barnabas, is that you? Are you hurt?"
The seaman hid behind a bulkhead and groaned again. Several minutes later the door to the captain's cabin opened a crack.
"Barnabas?"
There was another painful groan, and the door opened further. Minerva slowly and warily ventured out of the cabin.
"Barnabas? Where are you?"
She had taken only a few steps on the deck when, suddenly, Heinrich came out of hiding and grabbed her in his powerful arms.
Minerva screamed and fought valiantly against her relentless attacker. She scratched, bit and kicked. In the melee, Heinrich was temporarily thrown off guard, and the frightened woman was able to break free and escape his clutches. Onboard a ship, however, there was nowhere to run and no one to come to her rescue. Yet rather than face dishonor and possibly murder, Minerva Sebring ran to the side of the ship and threw herself overboard.
* * *
"They think I killed her," Roman announced, weary from the ordeal he'd suffered over the past several hours.
"Don't worry," his lawyer assured him, "they haven't got anything to go on."
"I didn't do it. She dove into the water and then just disappeared."
"Sure she did," the lawyer said unconvincingly.
He had heard guilty people proclaim their innocence many times before.
* * *
Heinrich had no time to grieve for the young woman. He knew he must flee, for should another vessel find him aboard or in the vicinity of the Maria Catherine, he would surely die horribly for his crimes. The German seaman packed a supply of food and fresh water into the ship's lifeboat and then ran to the bridge to get the sextant and chronometer.
"Mommy?"
Lorelei. Heinrich's heart sank. He couldn't kill a two-year-old child or leave her on the ship alone to starve or die of thirst. True, he was a deranged murderer, but he wasn't a monster.
"Come here, little one," he called gently.
"Where's Mommy?"
"Come with me; I'll take you to her."
The child, unaware of the heinous murders that had occurred aboard the Maria Catherine, saw no reason to fear Heinrich and thus allowed him to place her in the lifeboat.
Glynnis, still a silent observer of the drama, got into the boat as well.
Heinrich rowed toward land, steering the boat in the direction of a quiet cove a good distance from any port where he might be seen. Since the sun had already set, Heinrich was protected by the cover of darkness, and he was able to land and dispose of the lifeboat in secrecy.
"Where's Mommy?" Lorelei asked sweetly.
"Be patient, little one," the seaman replied. "I'm going to take you with me to Germany. We will find you a mommy there."
* * *
Roman checked out of his hotel and went to the bar to have a drink with Captain Demetrius Prowse.
"Are you all right, sir?" the captain asked with concern.
"Yeah. I'll be fine, I suppose."
Tears welled up in his eyes.
"The Nantucket Pearl is ready to leave port whenever you are, sir," Prowse declared.
"I've decided to fly back to Boston. I don't think I could take the long voyage back, not without ...."
"I understand, sir. Do you want me to bring the ship back?"
"I don't know, Prowse. To be honest, I'm not sure I want to keep her. She would always be a painful reminder of my loss. I'll tell you what, why don't you sail her to Miami and put her into dry dock until I make up my mind?"
After finishing their drinks, the two men left the hotel.
"Are you going back to the ship now?" Roman asked.
The captain nodded.
"I'll join you. I want to retrieve a few personal belongings from my cabin."
They hailed a taxi and drove to the marina. Roman's face paled when he boarded the Nantucket Pearl.
"It's the scent of her perfume," he said choking back the tears.
"Roman!"
Was he dreaming? It was a voice he knew well: the voice of the woman he loved.
Glynnis came out of the cabin and ran into his arms.
"Oh, Roman! Roman!"
"I don't believe it; you're alive!" he said, covering her face with kisses.
"Of course, I'm alive."
"You dove into the water and never came back up. Where have you been all this time?"
"I don't think you'll believe me," she replied sheepishly. "It's a pretty bizarre story."
"Considering your strange disappearance and miraculous reemergence, I'm pretty much open to any explanation."
Glynnis proceeded to tell her husband about the events she witnessed aboard the Maria Catherine. His skepticism was evident on his handsome face.
"I told you that you wouldn't believe me."
"Let's say that I believe that you believe that's what happened."
"You think I'm crazy?"
"No. I think you suffered some kind of shock or trauma, and you confused reality with the account I told you about the Maria Catherine."
"I didn't imagine it; what I saw was real."
Roman hugged her tightly.
"It doesn't matter where you've been, darling. The important thing is that you're alive and well."
* * *
After that frightening brush with the unknown, Roman and Glynnis Talbot returned to Massachusetts, content to remain on land and start the family they both wanted.
One Christmas several years later, Roman surprised his wife with a beautiful leather-bound scrapbook.
"What's this?" Glynnis asked.
"I know how much you like history, so I thought you'd appreciate your own personal history. I hired a genealogist to research your family tree."
"What a wonderful present, Roman!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.
Later, after the couple and their children had opened all their presents, Glynnis picked up the scrapbook and began reading about the lives of her parents, grandparents and other family members.
"Look at these beautiful old photographs," she exclaimed. "Your genealogist was certainly thorough."
"Yes, she was. It took her months to compile that information."
Glynnis suddenly stood up and took the scrapbook out into the kitchen where she held it under the bright overhead light. She stared at the photograph of her great-great-grandmother and then quickly turned to the page that told her life story.
"I don't believe it! Roman, look: it's her."
"Who?"
"Mrs. Lorelei Vandross, the former Lorelei Nagel. It's Lorelei Sebring, the little girl I saw aboard the Maria Catherine."
"How could it be?"
"Heinrich said he was going to take her to Germany with him. He must have left her with his family."
"You don't actually believe ...?"
Roman was still of the opinion that his wife had imagined the entire episode.
"She was my great-great-grandmother. That must be why I was able to discover what happened to the family. I was at the same spot where they met their deaths, and their spirits reached out and contacted me from beyond the grave."
Roman didn't argue, but neither did he believe his wife's fantastic theory.
"Mommy! Daddy!" seven-year-old Catherine called, running into the kitchen carrying a large piece of paper. "Look what I drew with my new art kit."
"How beautiful!" Roman said. "I can see you're going to grow up and be a fine artist."
Glynnis said nothing. She could only marvel at her daughter's authentic rendering of the ill-fated Maria Catherine.
This story is loosely based on the actual mystery surrounding the Mary Celeste.
Salem aboard his own yacht? Where's an iceberg when you need it?
