The black ship: with other allegories and parablesCharles, Elizabeth Rundle
General
The black ship: with other allegories and parables
Charles, Elizabeth Rundle
Allegories -- Juvenile literature; Parables -- Juvenile literature; Sunday school literature
"I have seen it twice," she replied, speaking low and rapidly. "We
did not always live here. Your father was rich and a man of rank, and
loving us most dearly, he resolved to do all in his power to keep
the terrible Form away. For this end, he built that castle you have
often seen above the white tower. It is far above the sea; the rocks
are perpendicular; it is built of solid stone; the doors were of oak,
studded with iron; the windows barred with iron. No one was ever to be
permitted to cross the moat without being strictly scrutinised. The
gates were always to be closed.
"When it was finished, he made a feast. And after it, when the guests
had left, and every bolt was drawn, we stood at the window of the room
where you slept, and looked down triumphantly on the sea. A little
sister of yours was sleeping in my arms. In the bay at our feet was
moored the Black Ship. Our eyes seemed fascinated to it, and we could
not speak. We saw the Veiled Figure; descend the side, and slowly scale
the precipice beneath us, as if it had been a road made for it to
tread. It walked over the waters of the castle moat, which did not seem
to wet its feet. It stood on the balcony outside our window, and we
could not stir. It passed through the iron bars. It laid its hand on my
sleeping babe.
"Your father's strong arm was around us both, but before we could
utter a cry, the darling had glided like a shadow from our embrace.
The bright face of our baby was hidden from us under the folds of
that impenetrable veil. We watched the terrible Form noiselessly
descend the steep, re-enter the ship, and not until the Black Ship was
already gliding swiftly out of sight could we overcome the terrible
fascination. Then my cries of agony awoke the household, boats were
manned in pursuit, but in vain, in vain—we felt it was in vain. We
never saw the babe again."
She spoke with the languor of a sorrow which had been overwhelmed by
greater sorrows still.
"But our father?" asked Hope.
"He left the castle the next day," she answered; "we never returned
to it. He said the strong walls only mocked our helplessness, and
since then the castle has been empty. Birds build their nests in our
chambers, wild beasts make their lair in our gardens, the iron bars
rust on the open doors; and if the Veiled Figure enters again, it will
find no prey."
"But where did you go?"
"We came here. Your father said he would dare the foe, and, since no
fortification could keep it out, meet it on its own ground. So he built
this cottage close to the sea, and here we have lived ever since. I was
content to remain here, because I thought we might avoid seeing any
one, and keep the terrible secret from you.
"And here," she continued with the calmness of despair, "one morning we
saw the Black Ship moored, and your father went to meet it. I wept and
clung to him to keep him back, but he said, 'It shall speak to me.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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