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Southern Star, v. 1, issue 2, June 1941

Page 12

From The Star Port     SOUTHERN START     Page 12

where else -- in our mysterious usefulness."
Brrrrrr! The thought makes one uncomfortable, doesn't it? Even though I've read that plot in more than a million words of fiction: SINISTER BARRIER, GIANTS IN THE SKY, WHEN NEW YORK VANISHED, THE BLIND SPOT, THE MAN WHO COULD WORK MIRACLES. It's disquieting. I think I'll go climb into bed and pull the covers over my head. Perhaps the superdroopers are at this very moment reading over my shoulder -- eeeeeeeeeeek!
In connection with this idea of beings from beyond who might not only control our destinies but might also do a bit of body-snatching on the side in order to conduct laboratory experiments or merely for the purpose of studying the genus homo, what other explanation is there for the disappearance of the ill-fated crew of the Mary Celeste?
Most of you have hears of the Mary Celeste, but a story so strange bears repeating. Therefore:
On December 5, 1872, a British ship sighted the Mary Celeste approximately 400 miles off Gibralter, and noted that she was yawing and traveling an obviously aimless course. Upon investigation it was discovered that no one was at the helm --- nobody was on deck. A boarding party was sent over to solve the mystery of the drifting ship, and although they loudly called out above and below decks not a soul could they rouse --- because the Mary Celeste was devoid of master, of crew, of living creatures.
The lifeboat was there. The cargo was there. Food was there, and water in plentiful quantities. Clothing for the seamen was located neatly in the forecastle in the usual sailorly manner, a few under garments even hanging on a line. The mate had been doing a sum -- still unfinished -- on a piece of paper at the table in his cabin. In a sewing machine there was still a child's dress, and on the table were four partially-eaten breakfasts.
Of panic or trouble or mutiny there was no evidence whatsoever. Everything was present and accounted for except the seafarers (the master, his family, and his crew), the ship's papers, and the chronometer.
In November, 1872, the Mary Celeste sailed from New York bound for Genoa, and there were two score people aboard. By December 5 at high noon she was deserted by even the rats in the hold, and only God and the trade winds were piloting her over the mysterious sea.
Charles Fort has gone on. Perhaps now he knows the answer to all mysteries -- even this one which so vastly intrigued him. Teleportation, he would have called it, or seizure by masters from the immensity about us. No sensible explanation has ever been brought forward to explain the mystery of the Mary Celeste, and many people have attempted to solve the riddle. Recently, on the program WE, THE PEOPLE, the son of the British seaman who commanded the ship which discovered the derelict, spoke. He attempted to give an answer. Now it's my turn, and I'm going to do a little theorizing myself. My answer is even more impossible than most, but at least it should offer the basis for a good fantasy tale.
Imagine, then, an ordinary ship on an ordinary sunlit day. Suddenly there is a loud cry of astonishment from the lookout, or perhaps from the helmsman. Other voices take us the shout of amazement and every last soul aboard rushes above decks to discover the cause of the chorus of exclamations. The captain dashes to the rail. His wife, who has been repairing on her sewing machine a tiny rent in their daughter's dress, follows him. The forecastle spews forth an

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From The Star Port SOUTHERN START Page 12 where else -- in our mysterious usefulness." Brrrrrr! The thought makes one uncomfortable, doesn't it? Even though I've read that plot in more than a million words of fiction: SINISTER BARRIER, GIANTS IN THE SKY, WHEN NEW YORK VANISHED, THE BLIND SPOT, THE MAN WHO COULD WORK MIRACLES. It's disquieting. I think I'll go climb into bed and pull the covers over my head. Perhaps the superdroopers are at this very moment reading over my shoulder -- eeeeeeeeeeek! In connection with this idea of beings from beyond who might not only control our destinies but might also do a bit of body-snatching on the side in order to conduct laboratory experiments or merely for the purpose of studying the genus homo, what other explanation is there for the disappearance of the ill-fated crew of the Mary Celeste? Most of you have hears of the Mary Celeste, but a story so strange bears repeating. Therefore: On December 5, 1872, a British ship sighted the Mary Celeste approximately 400 miles off Gibralter, and noted that she was yawing and traveling an obviously aimless course. Upon investigation it was discovered that no one was at the helm --- nobody was on deck. A boarding party was sent over to solve the mystery of the drifting ship, and although they loudly called out above and below decks not a soul could they rouse --- because the Mary Celeste was devoid of master, of crew, of living creatures. The lifeboat was there. The cargo was there. Food was there, and water in plentiful quantities. Clothing for the seamen was located neatly in the forecastle in the usual sailorly manner, a few under garments even hanging on a line. The mate had been doing a sum -- still unfinished -- on a piece of paper at the table in his cabin. In a sewing machine there was still a child's dress, and on the table were four partially-eaten breakfasts. Of panic or trouble or mutiny there was no evidence whatsoever. Everything was present and accounted for except the seafarers (the master, his family, and his crew), the ship's papers, and the chronometer. In November, 1872, the Mary Celeste sailed from New York bound for Genoa, and there were two score people aboard. By December 5 at high noon she was deserted by even the rats in the hold, and only God and the trade winds were piloting her over the mysterious sea. Charles Fort has gone on. Perhaps now he knows the answer to all mysteries -- even this one which so vastly intrigued him. Teleportation, he would have called it, or seizure by masters from the immensity about us. No sensible explanation has ever been brought forward to explain the mystery of the Mary Celeste, and many people have attempted to solve the riddle. Recently, on the program WE, THE PEOPLE, the son of the British seaman who commanded the ship which discovered the derelict, spoke. He attempted to give an answer. Now it's my turn, and I'm going to do a little theorizing myself. My answer is even more impossible than most, but at least it should offer the basis for a good fantasy tale. Imagine, then, an ordinary ship on an ordinary sunlit day. Suddenly there is a loud cry of astonishment from the lookout, or perhaps from the helmsman. Other voices take us the shout of amazement and every last soul aboard rushes above decks to discover the cause of the chorus of exclamations. The captain dashes to the rail. His wife, who has been repairing on her sewing machine a tiny rent in their daughter's dress, follows him. The forecastle spews forth an