




Sea Curse

ROBERT E. HOWARD




ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

_Sea Curse_, copyright 1928 by Popular Fiction Publishing Company for
_Weird Tales_, May 1928. Sea Curse


  And some return by the failing light
    And some in the waking dream,
  For she hears the heels of the dripping ghosts
    That ride the rough roofbeam. --Kipling


They were the brawlers and braggarts, the loud boasters and hard
drinkers, of Faring town, John Kulrek and his crony Lie-lip Canool. Many a time have I, a tousled-haired lad, stolen to the tavern door
to listen to their curses, their profane arguments and wild sea
songs; half fearful and half in admiration of these wild rovers. Aye, all the people of Faring town gazed on them with fear and
admiration, for they were not like the rest of the Faring men; they
were not content to ply their trade along the coasts and among the
shark-teeth shoals. No yawls, no skiffs for them! They fared far,
farther than any other man in the village, for they shipped on the
great sailing-ships that went out on the white tides to brave the
restless gray ocean and make ports in strange lands. Ah, I mind it was swift times in the little sea-coast village of
Faring when John Kulrek came home, with his furtive Lie-lip at his
side, swaggering down the gang-plank, in his tarry sea-clothes, and
the broad leather belt that held his ever-ready dagger; shouting
condescending greeting to some favored acquaintance, kissing some
maiden who ventured too near; then up the street, roaring some
scarcely decent song of the sea. How the cringers and the idlers,
the hangers-on, would swarm about the two desperate heroes,
flattering and smirking, guffawing hilariously at each nasty jest. For to the tavern loafers and to some of the weaker among the
straight-forward villagers, these men with their wild talk and their
brutal deeds, their tales of the Seven Seas and the far countries,
these men, I say, were valiant knights, nature's noblemen who dared
to be men of blood and brawn. And all feared them, so that when a man was beaten or a woman
insulted, the villagers muttered--and did nothing. And so when Moll
Farrell's niece was put to shame by John Kulrek, none dared even to
put in words what all thought. Moll had never married, and she and
the girl lived alone in a little hut down close to the beach, so
close that in high tide the waves came almost to the door. The people of the village accounted old Moll something of a witch,
and she was a grim, gaunt old dame who had little to say to anyone. But she minded her own business, and eked out a slim living by
gathering clams, and picking up bits of driftwood. The girl was a pretty, foolish little thing, vain and easily
befooled, else she had never yielded to the shark-like blandishments
of John Kulrek. I mind the day was a cold winter day with a sharp breeze out of the
east when the old dame came into the village street shrieking that
the girl had vanished. All scattered over the beach and back among
the bleak inland hills to search for her--all save John Kulrek and
his cronies who sat in the tavern dicing and toping. All the while
beyond the shoals, we heard the never-ceasing droning of the heaving,
restless grey monster, and in the dim light of the ghostly dawn Moll
Farrell's girl came home. The tides bore her gently across the wet sands and laid her almost at
her own door. Virgin-white she was, and her arms were folded across
her still bosom; calm was her face, and the gray tides sighed about
her slender limbs. Moll Farrell's eyes were stones, yet she stood
above her dead girl and spoke no word till John Kulrek and his crony
came reeling down from the tavern, their drinking-jacks still in
their hands. Drunk was John Kulrek, and the people gave back for
him, murder in their souls; so he came and laughed at Moll Farrell
across the body of her girl. "Zounds!" swore John Kulrek; "the wench has drowned herself, Lie-lip!" Lie-lip laughed, with the twist of his thin mouth. He always hated
Moll Farrell, for it was she that had given him the name of Lie-lip. Then John Kulrek lifted his drinking-jack, swaying on his uncertain
legs. "A health to the wench's ghost!" he bellowed, while all stood
aghast. Then Moll Farrell spoke, and the words broke from her in a scream
which sent ripples of cold up and down the spines of the throng. "The curse of the Foul Fiend upon you, John Kulrek!" she screamed. "The curse of God rest upon your vile soul throughout eternity! May
you gaze on sights that shall sear the eyes of you and scorch the
soul of you! May you die a bloody death and writhe in hell's flames
for a million and a million and yet a million years! I curse you by
sea and by land, by earth and by air, by the demons of the oceans and
the demons of the swamplands, the fiends of the forests and the
goblins of the hills! And you--" her lean finger stabbed at Lie-lip
Canool and he started backward, his face paling, "you shall be the
death of John Kulrek and he shall be the death of you! You shall
bring John Kulrek to the doors of hell and John Kulrek shall bring
you to the gallows-tree! I set the seal of death upon your brow,
John Kulrek! You shall live in terror and die in horror far out upon
the cold grey sea! But the sea that took the soul of innocence to
her bosom shall not take you, but shall fling forth your vile carcass
to the sands! Aye, John Kulrek--" and she spoke with such a terrible
intensity that the drunken mockery on the man's face changed to one
of swinish stupidity, "the sea roars for the victim it will not keep! There is snow upon the hills, John Kulrek, and ere it melts your
corpse will lie at my feet. And I shall spit upon it and be content." Kulrek and his crony sailed at dawn for a long voyage, and Moll went
back to her hut and her clam gathering. She seemed to grow leaner
and more grim than ever and her eyes smoldered with a light not sane. The days glided by and people whispered among themselves that Moll's
days were numbered, for she faded to a ghost of a woman; but she went
her way, refusing all aid. That was a short, cold summer and the snow on the barren inland hills
never melted; a thing very unusual, which caused much comment among
the villagers. At dusk and at dawn Moll would come up on the beach,
gaze up at the snow which glittered on the hills, then out to sea
with a fierce intensity in her gaze. Then the days grew shorter, the nights longer and darker, and the
cold grey tides came sweeping along the bleak strands, bearing the
rain and sleet of the sharp east breezes. And upon a bleak day a trading-vessel sailed into the bay and
anchored. And all the idlers and the wastrels flocked to the wharfs,
for that was the ship upon which John Kulrek and Lie-lip Canool had
sailed. Down the gang-plank came Lie-lip, more furtive than ever,
but John Kulrek was not there. To shouted queries, Canool shook his head. "Kulrek deserted ship at
a port of Sumatra," said he. "He had a row with the skipper, lads;
wanted me to desert, too, but no!