H.P. Lovecraft. The White Ship
The White Ship
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written November 1919
Published November 1919 in The United Amateur, Vol. 19, No. 2, p. 30-33.
I am Basil Elton, keeper of the North Point light that my father and
grandfather kept before me. Far from the shore stands the gray lighthouse,
above sunken slimy rocks that are seen when the tide is low, but unseen
when the tide is high. Past that beacon for a century have swept the
majestic barques of the seven seas. In the days of my grandfather there
were many; in the days of my father not so many; and now there are so few
that I sometimes feel strangely alone, as though I were the last man on
our planet.
From far shores came those white-sailed argosies of old; from far Eastern
shores where warm suns shine and sweet odors linger about strange gardens
and gay temples. The old captains of the sea came often to my grandfather
and told him of these things which in turn he told to my father, and my
father told to me in the long autumn evenings when the wind howled eerily
from the East. And I have read more of these things, and of many things
besides, in the books men gave me when I was young and filled with wonder.
But more wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of books is the
secret lore of ocean. Blue, green, gray, white or black; smooth, ruffled,
or mountainous; that ocean is not silent. All my days have I watched it
and listened to it, and I know it well. At first it told to me only the
plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but with the years it
grew more friendly and spoke of other things; of things more strange and
more distant in space and time. Sometimes at twilight the gray vapors of
the horizon have parted to grant me glimpses of the ways beyond; and
sometimes at night the deep waters of the sea have grown clear and
phosphorescent, to grant me glimpses of the ways beneath. And these
glimpses have been as often of the ways that were and the ways that might
be, as of the ways that are; for ocean is more ancient than the mountains,
and freighted with the memories and the dreams of Time.
Out of the South it was that the White Ship used to come when the moon was
full and high in the heavens. Out of the South it would glide very
smoothly and silently over the sea. And whether the sea was rough or calm,
and whether the wind was friendly or adverse, it would always glide
smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of
oars moving rhythmically. One night I espied upon the deck a man, bearded
and robed, and he seemed to beckon me to embark for far unknown shores.
Many times afterward I saw him under the full moon, and never did he
beckon me.
Very brightly did the moon shine on the night I answered the call, and I
walked out over the waters to the White Ship on a bridge of moonbeams. The
man who had beckoned now spoke a welcome to me in a soft language I seemed
to know well, and the hours were filled with soft songs of the oarsmen as
we glided away into a mysterious South, golden with the glow of that full,
mellow moon.
And when the day dawned, rosy and effulgent, I beheld the green shore of
far lands, bright and beautiful, and to me unknown. Up from the sea rose
lordly terraces of verdure, tree-studded, and shewing here and there the
gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples. As we drew nearer
the green shore the bearded man told me of that land, the land of Zar,
where dwell all the dreams and thoughts of beauty that come to men once
and then are forgotten. And when I looked upon the terraces again I saw
that what he said was true, for among the sights before me were many
things I had once seen through the mists beyond the horizon and in the
phosphorescent depths of ocean. There too were forms and fantasies more
splendid than any I had ever known; the visions of young poets who died in
want before the world could learn of what they had seen and dreamed. But
we did not set foot upon the sloping meadows of Zar, for it is told that
he who treads them may nevermore return to his native shore.
As the White Ship sailed silently away from the templed terraces of Zar,
we beheld on the distant horizon ahead the spires of a mighty city; and
the bearded man said to me, "This is Thalarion, the City of a Thousand
Wonders, wherein reside all those mysteries that man has striven in vain
to fathom." And I looked again, at closer range, and saw that the city was
greater than any city I had known or dreamed of before. Into the sky the
spires of its temples reached, so that no man might behold their peaks;
and far back beyond the horizon stretched the grim, gray walls, over which
one might spy only a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich
friezes and alluring sculptures. I yearned mightily to enter this
fascinating yet repellent city, and besought the bearded man to land me at
the stone pier by the huge carven gate Akariel; but he gently denied my
wish, saying, "Into Thalarion, the City of a Thousand Wonders, many have
passed but none returned. Therein walk only daemons and mad things that
are no longer men, and the streets are white with the unburied bones of
those who have looked upon the eidolon Lathi, that reigns over the city."
So the White Ship sailed on past the walls of Thalarion, and followed for
many days a southward-flying bird, whose glossy plumage matched the sky
out of which it had appeared.
Then came we to a pleasant coast gay with blossoms of every hue, where as
far inland as we could see basked lovely groves and radiant arbors beneath
a meridian sun. From bowers beyond our view came bursts of song and
snatches of lyric harmony, interspersed with faint laughter so delicious
that I urged the rowers onward in my eagerness to reach the scene. And the
bearded man spoke no word, but watched me as we approached the lily-lined
shore. Suddenly a wind blowing from over the flowery meadows and leafy
woods brought a scent at which I trembled. The wind grew stronger, and the
air was filled with the lethal, charnel odor of plague-stricken towns and
uncovered cemeteries. And as we sailed madly away from that damnable coast
the bearded man spoke at last, saying, "This is Xura, the Land of
Pleasures Unattained."
So once more the White Ship followed the bird of heaven, over warm blessed
seas fanned by caressing, aromatic breezes. Day after day and night after
night did we sail, and when the moon was full we would listen to soft
songs of the oarsmen, sweet as on that distant night when we sailed away
from my far native land. And it was by moonlight that we anchored at last
in the harbor of Sona-Nyl, which is guarded by twin headlands of crystal
that rise from the sea and meet in a resplendent arch. This is the Land of
Fancy, and we walked to the verdant shore upon a golden bridge of
moonbeams.
In the Land of Sona-Nyl there is neither time nor space, neither suffering
nor death; and there I dwelt for many aeons. Green are the groves and
pastures, bright and fragrant the flowers, blue and musical the streams,
clear and cool the fountains, and stately and gorgeous the temples,
castles, and cities of Sona-Nyl. Of that land there is no bound, for
beyond each vista of beauty rises another more beautiful. Over the
countryside and amidst the splendor of cities can move at will the happy
folk, of whom all are gifted with unmarred grace and unalloyed happiness.
For the aeons that I dwelt there I wandered blissfully through gardens
where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and where the
white walks are bordered with delicate blossoms. I climbed gentle hills
from whose summits I could see entrancing panoramas of loveliness, with
steepled towns nestling in verdant valleys, and with the golden domes of
gigantic cities glittering on the infinitely distant horizon. And I viewed
by moonlight the sparkling sea, the crystal headlands, and the placid
harbor wherein lay anchored the White Ship.
It was against the full moon one night in the immemorial year of Tharp
that I saw outlined the beckoning form of the celestial bird, and felt the
first stirrings of unrest. Then I spoke with the bearded man, and told him
of my new yearnings to depart for remote Cathuria, which no man hath seen,
but which all believe to lie beyond the basalt pillars of the West. It is
the Land of Hope, and in it shine the perfect ideals of all that we know
elsewhere; or at least so men relate. But the bearded man said to me,
"Beware of those perilous seas wherein men say Cathuria lies. In Sona-Nyl
there is no pain or death, but who can tell what lies beyond the basalt
pillars of the West?" Natheless at the next full moon I boarded the White
Ship, and with the reluctant bearded man left the happy harbor for
untraveled seas.
And the bird of heaven flew before, and led us toward the basalt pillars
of the West, but this time the oarsmen sang no soft songs under the full
moon. In my mind I would often picture the unknown Land of Cathuria with
its splendid groves and palaces, and would wonder what new delights there
awaited me. "Cathuria," I would say to myself, "is the abode of gods and
the land of unnumbered cities of gold. Its forests are of aloe and
sandalwood, even as the fragrant groves of Camorin, and among the trees
flutter gay birds sweet with song. On the green and flowery mountains of
Cathuria stand temples of pink marble, rich with carven and painted
glories, and having in their courtyards cool fountains of silver, where
purr with ravishing music the scented waters that come from the
grotto-born river Narg. And the cities of Cathuria are cinctured with
golden walls, and their pavements also are of gold. In the gardens of
these cities are strange orchids, and perfumed lakes whose beds are of
coral and amber. At night the streets and the gardens are lit with gay
lanthorns fashioned from the three-colored shell of the tortoise, and here
resound the soft notes of the singer and the lutanist. And the houses of
the cities of Cathuria are all palaces, each built over a fragrant canal
bearing the waters of the sacred Narg. Of marble and porphyry are the
houses, and roofed with glittering gold that reflects the rays of the sun
and enhances the splendor of the cities as blissful gods view them from
the distant peaks. Fairest of all is the palace of the great monarch
Dorieb, whom some say to be a demi-god and others a god. High is the
palace of Dorieb, and many are the turrets of marble upon its walls. In
its wide halls many multitudes assemble, and here hang the trophies of the
ages. And the roof is of pure gold, set upon tall pillars of ruby and
azure, and having such carven figures of gods and heroes that he who looks
up to those heights seems to gaze upon the living Olympus. And the floor
of the palace is of glass, under which flow the cunningly lighted waters
of the Narg, gay with gaudy fish not known beyond the bounds of lovely
Cathuria."
Thus would I speak to myself of Cathuria, but ever would the bearded man
warn me to turn back to the happy shore of Sona-Nyl; for Sona-Nyl is known
of men, while none hath ever beheld Cathuria.
And on the thirty-first day that we followed the bird, we beheld the
basalt pillars of the West. Shrouded in mist they were, so that no man
might peer beyond them or see their summits -- which indeed some say reach
even to the heavens. And the bearded man again implored me to turn back,
but I heeded him not; for from the mists beyond the basalt pillars I
fancied there came the notes of singers and lutanists; sweeter than the
sweetest songs of Sona-Nyl, and sounding mine own praises; the praises of
me, who had voyaged far from the full moon and dwelt in the Land of Fancy.
So to the sound of melody the White Ship sailed into the mist betwixt the
basalt pillars of the West. And when the music ceased and the mist lifted,
we beheld not the Land of Cathuria, but a swift-rushing resistless sea,
over which our helpless barque was borne toward some unknown goal. Soon to
our ears came the distant thunder of falling waters, and to our eyes
appeared on the far horizon ahead the titanic spray of a monstrous
cataract, wherein the oceans of the world drop down to abysmal
nothingness. Then did the bearded man say to me, with tears on his cheek,
"We have rejected the beautiful Land of Sona-Nyl, which we may never
behold again. The gods are greater than men, and they have conquered." And
I closed my eyes before the crash that I knew would come, shutting out the
sight of the celestial bird which flapped its mocking blue wings over the
brink of the torrent.
Out of that crash came darkness, and I heard the shrieking of men and of
things which were not men. From the East tempestuous winds arose, and
chilled me as I crouched on the slab of damp stone which had risen beneath
my feet. Then as I heard another crash I opened my eyes and beheld myself
upon the platform of that lighthouse whence I had sailed so many aeons
ago. In the darkness below there loomed the vast blurred outlines of a
vessel breaking up on the cruel rocks, and as I glanced out over the waste
I saw that the light had failed for the first time since my grandfather
had assumed its care.
And in the later watches of the night, when I went within the tower, I saw
on the wall a calendar which still remained as when I had left it at the
hour I sailed away. With the dawn I descended the tower and looked for
wreckage upon the rocks, but what I found was only this: a strange dead
bird whose hue was as of the azure sky, and a single shattered spar, of a
whiteness greater than that of the wave-tips or of the mountain snow.
And thereafter the ocean told me its secrets no more; and though many
times since has the moon shone full and high in the heavens, the White
Ship from the South came never again.
