"The Ghost Ship of 1872: What Really Happened to the Mary Celeste?"

A Sailor’s Account

December 4, 1872 – Mid-Atlantic

The wind was wrong.

On the deck of the Dei Gratia, I was looking at the far-off brigantine via my spyglass. She was half-abandoned, her hull listing slightly, her sails half-furled.

His expression stern, Captain Morehouse dropped his own drink. Mary Celeste is that. There was no reason why Briggs would abandon his ship.

As the hush pressed in, we rowed over. Not a shout. There are no groaning ropes. The sound of the waves hitting the hull alone.

Boarding the Ghost Ship

No one was on the deck. No blood, no shattered furniture, no evidence of a struggle. There was only one lifeboat on the ship. The cargo, 1,700 barrels of industrial alcohol, was undamaged below. Pipes, sewing kits, and a kid's doll (Captain Briggs had brought his family along) were still in the crew's quarters.

However, the log of the ship? November 25 was the last entry. It was nine days ago.

Then the sword appeared.

I discovered a spotless cutlass, seemingly drawn but never used, close to the main hatch. With his navigation charts and sextant still in place, the captain's cabin remained intact. On the stove, a pot of tea had gone cold.

Theories and Whispers

The crew of the Dei Gratia laughed about their rations that night.

"Pirates?" came the question.

I shook my head. "Nothing was taken. Not even gold.

"Mutiny, then?"

Briggs was a fair captain, though. He had no cause to be betrayed by his men.

Then the old salt cook, who was superstitious, said: "Perhaps they saw something. Something that scared them into running away.

The Storm That Wasn’t There

The pumps on the Mary Celeste were dry. The hold is dry. But as though they were afraid of an explosion, someone had opened the hatches. The barrels of alcohol? Even though some were empty, experienced sailors wouldn't have been alarmed by the fumes.

Unless they believed it to be sufficient.

I had this vision: A wave that doesn't belong. There is a moan in the hull. "She’s gonna blow!" someone yells. Briggs tells everyone to get into the lifeboat because he fears that the fumes will catch fire. They wait for the explosion while rowing away while attached to the ship.

However, it never materializes.

The wind causes the rope to break. Unharmed, the Mary Celeste continues to drift. What about the lifeboat? sucked up by the Atlantic.

Final Entry

The ship was delivered to Gibraltar by us. A court of admiralty referred to it as a "act of God." Not a body. There are no responses.

I still see her, though, sometimes when the fog comes in—sails quivering like a whisper, waiting forever for a crew that never came back.

The Rigging's Whisper

Sailors claim that you can still hear them now, when the wind howls just right: Briggs shouting orders that no one pays attention, faint voices tangled in the ropes. Ghost fleets continue to sail the Mary Celeste, her decks resonating with footsteps that disappear before they reach the rail. As if whatever took them is still out there, waiting to finish the job, they say that if you listen closely, you will hear the worst sound of all: the creak of an empty lifeboat being lowered into a calm sea.

What Really Happened? No one knows. But the sea keeps its secrets well.

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