Little John Lou and the Mariner's Bow
Little John Lou and the Mariner’s Bow
Book 1
of
The Odyssey of Little John Lou
By
Phillip Wade
Little John Lou and the Mariner’s Bow and The Odyssey of Little John Lou
Copyright © 2015 by Phillip Wade
All rights reserved.
Cover Illustration by Brady DeVore
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About The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
The Mariner encountered by Little John Lou in this book is the narrator and main character of English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge's epic poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner published in 1798. Read a synopsis of it here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rime_of_the_Ancient_Mariner.
The original full-text poem is public domain and may be found here:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173253
To Nathan, Jonathan, and Breanna Marie
Who all enjoy a good bedtime story
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: The Tsunami
Chapter 2: The Ghost Ship
Chapter 3: The Mariner’s Tale
Chapter 4: The Transformation
Chapter 5: The Gift
Chapter 1: The Tsunami
It all happened when
On the night of the storm,
When the dogs ran away
And the parents weren’t home,
When the sea rose up
From its bed in the bay
And washed all the boats
And the houses away.
Then the sun peeked over
The edge of the waves
And caught the moon napping,
So night slipped away.
Then Little John Lou
Awoke all alone
In his home like an island
Surrounded by foam.
The waves splashed against
The house with a roar,
But he felt like a captain
Far away from the shore.
Though lost and alone
On a billowing sea,
Strange though it was
He felt totally free.
So his house floated onward
On currents and waves
‘Til the sun slipped away
At the end of the day.
***
Chapter 2: The Ghost Ship
It went on like that
Over day and through night.
John drifted along
And the future was bright.
But darkness descended
One night on the sea,
And he heard a fell voice.
O who might it be?
Then out of the mist
A strange ship emerged.
Its crewmen were silent
But for one voice he heard.
“Albatross, Albatross,
Albatross he!
I shouldn’t have shot him
Now look where I be.
“I’m surrounded by water
With no drop to drink.
How could I have done it
Why didn’t I think?”
And after the mariner
Finished his cry
He spied Little John
And expressed his surprise.
“By thunder,” he said,
“Now what have we here?
A specter has come
Like a fog in the weir.”
Now Little John Lou
He declared with a huff,
“Ghost am I none
For there is no such stuff.”
“Oh Laddie, Oh Laddie
Now watch what ye say,
For you’re staring at specters
Yourself on this day.
“For the master he glares,
And the first mate, he pries,
And the helmsman, why
Look at the glow in his eyes!”
Then Little John noticed
Through shadows of night
The crewmen lay dead
But with life in their eyes.
Then Little John fled
And hid in his room
As his house was consumed
By a shadowy gloom.
But the voice came again.
It was louder this time,
“O be not afraid
My intent is benign.”
But Little John trembled
And Little John cowed
And Little John fearfully
Wondered aloud,
“So tell me then, seaman,
What am I to do?
For I’ve never conversed
With a skeleton crew.”
“It’s easy my laddie,
Just stay there to port,
And I’ll tell ye a story
To keep ye afloat.”
So he led Little John
Through a journey of woe
As he told him a story
Of long, long ago.
***
Chapter 3: The Mariner’s Tale
We had left back then
On a happy voyage
Set for lands unknown
When a storm arose
That blew us off course
And made the timbers moan.
To the south we went
At a harrowing speed
As the storm raged day and night
'Til we woke aghast
On a foggy morn
Trapped in a sea of ice!
Then out of the sky
Came a bless’ed bird
Like an angel out of heaven
And we praised the Lord
For this holy sign,
For the gift that we’d been given.
So we fed the bird
With a cheery heart
And it circled all around.
Then the ice broke away
With a thunderous crash,
And a wind rose with the sound.
Then the helmsman
Steered us to the south
And through the crack that formed,
And that heaven-sent breeze
Pushed us pleasantly
Through the bright but foggy morn.
And that albatross
Fluttered overhead,
Or on sail or on mast would rest.
Like a pet he would come
When we called him near
And thus he would be fed.
But then one night
By the fog-dimmed moon
As I watched the bird from below,
I aimed at it
With a foolish heart
And I shot it with my bow.
“Oh what have you done?”
Cried the men with fear,
With voices tinged with woe.
You have killed the bird
Who broke the ice
And made the south breeze blow!”
But the breeze blew on
As if nothing wrong
To an undiscovered sea,
And we sailed on
But could scarcely see
Through the fog that refused to leave.
So they changed their minds
And said cruel things
About the albatross,
Said the bird was cursed,
I was right to shoot,
Because it had brought the fog.
Those were the words
That sealed their fate
With a spirit in the deep,
For at that moment
The sails went flat
For the bless’ed wind had ceased.
We did not move
Over days and nights,
And all our hearts did weep.
There was water,
Water everywhere
Nor any drop to drink.
Our eyes couldn’t cry,
Our throats were so dry
That we couldn’t even speak,
And my thoughts
Stewed over the albatross
And I couldn’t find my sleep.
But even worse
Were the eyes of the crew
That looked on me with rage.
Oh I wished I had spared
That heaven-sent bird
On the night of that fateful day!
Then on the horizon
We spied a strange ship
That sailed on a windless sea,
And as it drew near
It eclipsed setting sun
In a sight that we couldn’t believe.
For the rays passed
Through a skeletal bow,
Through tattered and limp-hanging sails,
And a haunting woman
Sat on the deck
Who caused my crew to wail.
And by her side
Sat death himself
And with him she tossed a dice
And then she declared,
“I’ve won! I’ve won!”
And then she whistled thrice.
Then one-by-one
The men fell dead
As the strange ship took to flight,
But their dead eyes keep watching me
Day and night
As I, cursed, stay alive.
It’s gone on like this,
Six days, six nights,
And though I try I can’t pray,
For I think each hour
Of that albatross
That I’d shot on that fateful day,
And my haunting and tortured
Dead crewmen’s eyes
Refuse to turn away.
And strangely enough
I have found you here
On the night of the seventh day.
So here I am
On this eerie night
As I travel the ocean blue.
I sail in the hands
Of the helmsman of fate,
And he’s brought me here to you.
So now it’s my chance
To ask you, lad,
What I cannot understand:
How do you live
In a house on the deep
Instead of on the land?
***
Chapter 4: The Transformation
With the mariner’s words
John emerged from his room
And said that he didn’t know
How he could have survived
When the sea took his house
Or how he could still call it home.
But he’d been there for days,
And he’d been there for nights,
How long he could not be sure,
“But this much is certain,
I’m glad I’m alive
In this beautiful, wondrous world.”
And after he’d spoken
These soothing words,
The mariner breathed out a sigh,
“I admit, Little John,
Through my journey so long
That I’ve only wanted to die.
“But your words give me hope
And your words give me faith
Despite the dead crewmen’s eyes.
“You remind me, my boy,
To have gratitude
That somehow I’m still alive.”
Then suddenly
The moon climbed high
And lit up the glassy sea,
And the ocean glowed brightly
With wondrous lights
That swirled within the deep.
Then they realized what glowed
Were creatures, serpents,
Swimming all around.
They were shallow and deep,
They were everywhere,
And the ship they did surround.
They were blue and green
And beautiful
And leaving trails of gold!
In the mariner’s awe
He blessed those beasts,
And a prayer came to his soul.
Then the ship lit up
With a magic light,
And the dead men came alive,
And they took their stations
With silent smiles,
And the anger left their eyes.
To the mariner’s wonder,
The guilt he bore
Of the albatross disappeared,
And the dead men watched
With pleasant looks
As they silently sailed and steered.
Then Little John disappeared
Briefly inside
And turned on his kitchen sink,
And he filled up a glass
Of water so pure,
And he gave the man a drink.
Well, the seaman he spoke
As the crew looked on
With grins of ghostly glee,
“Thank you my boy
For saving my soul
And helping to set me free.”
***
Chapter 5: The Gift
“Now dear Little John
Maybe both of us dream,
Maybe I am not real,
Maybe you’ve never been,
"But my ship draws away,
For the helmsman he turns,
And where I must go
I fear you cannot come.”
“Oh Mariner!" cried John,
If you must go away,
I hope in my heart
That you’ll reach land someday.”
Well the seaman he smiled
As the ship withdrew,
And he shouted, “My boy
Here is something for you.”
Then the mariner tossed
A small satchel to him
Where John found a bow
And three arrows within.
And also inside
was a finger-thin rope
that was smooth to the touch
with a magical glow.
“Be kind,” the man said,
“To all things great and small,
For dear God who loves us
Hath made and loves all.”
“Now lad,” then he shouted,
“One more thing to tell:
Learn from my albatross
Don’t shoot your whale!”
As he said those last words
The ghost ship disappeared
Just as quick as it came
Without rustle or cheer.
“Then why," shouted John,
"Did you give me a bow?”
But his words died away
Because John was alone.
Oh what could he mean?
Little John could not tell,
For he’d never desired
To hurt any whale.
Then Little John slipped
Into troubling sleep,
And he didn’t awake
‘Til the sun reached his peak.
Then Little John marveled
At what he had seen!
“Was it real?” he had asked.
“Oh it couldn’t have been!”
But then he looked downward,
And clasped in his hand
Was the bag with the bow
He’d received from the man.
So that’s how it started,
This tale of the sea,
How John left his home
To voyage on the deep.
Adventures are many
And tales not a few
In the great epic journey
Of Little John Lou.
###
Thank you for reading my book, Little John Lou and the Mariner's Bow. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer. You may also like the much longer second book of the series, Little John Lou and the Hunt for Moby Dick, also available where this book is sold.
Thanks!
Phil Wade
About the author
Phillip Wade resides in Logan, Utah, with his wife and four children. During the fall and winter, he can be found busily teaching literature at the local high school. In the spring and summer, as legend has it, he can be seen wandering the snow-capped mountains of Northern Utah or retreating with his family to the isolated canyons and secret fishing streams of the desert to the south. But on Friday nights, in a small tent pitched in his back yard, he can often be heard spinning yarns for his children, tales of oceans, rivers, caverns, pirates, heroes, and, of course, Little John Lou.