Original Short Stories — Volume 04Maupassant, Guy de
General
Original Short Stories — Volume 04
Maupassant, Guy de
Short stories, French -- Translations into English
“It seemed fairly to rise out of the ground, and on that great, flat,
yellow stretch of sand assumed wonderful proportions. After an hour's
walk I at last reached it. It lay upon its side, ruined and shattered,
its broken bones showing as though it were an animal, its bones of
tarred wood pierced with great bolts. The sand had already invaded it,
entering it by all the crannies, and held it and refused to let it go.
It seemed to have taken root in it. The bow had entered deep into this
soft, treacherous beach, while the stern, high in air, seemed to cast
at heaven, like a cry of despairing appeal, the two white words on the
black planking, Marie Joseph.
“I climbed upon this carcass of a ship by the lowest side; then, having
reached the deck, I went below. The daylight, which entered by the
stove-in hatches and the cracks in the sides, showed me dimly long dark
cavities full of demolished woodwork. They contained nothing but sand,
which served as foot-soil in this cavern of planks.
“I began to take some notes about the condition of the ship. I was
seated on a broken empty cask, writing by the light of a great crack,
through which I could perceive the boundless stretch of the strand. A
strange shivering of cold and loneliness ran over my skin from time
to time, and I would often stop writing for a moment to listen to the
mysterious noises in the derelict: the noise of crabs scratching the
planking with their crooked claws; the noise of a thousand little
creatures of the sea already crawling over this dead body or else boring
into the wood.
“Suddenly, very near me, I heard human voices. I started as though I had
seen a ghost. For a second I really thought I was about to see drowned
men rise from the sinister depths of the hold, who would tell me about
their death. At any rate, it did not take me long to swing myself on
deck. There, standing by the bows, was a tall Englishman with three
young misses. Certainly they were a good deal more frightened at seeing
this sudden apparition on the abandoned three-master than I was at
seeing them. The youngest girl turned and ran, the two others threw
their arms round their father. As for him, he opened his mouth--that was
the only sign of emotion which he showed.
“Then, after several seconds, he spoke:
“'Mosieu, are you the owner of this ship?'
“'I am.'
“'May I go over it?'
“'You may.'
“Then he uttered a long sentence in English, in which I only
distinguished the word 'gracious,' repeated several times.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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