Dagon Shwe Yar - Stone Ear

A small ship

On December 5, 1872, an English ship called the De Gratia, with full sail, sighted an American schooner at a distance, sailing into the Straits of Gibraltar. It was not going straight, but was drifting to and fro, and it seemed as if the ship was without a captain. Looking through a glass, there was no sign of any man on board, and the captain of the English ship ordered his ship to approach, and sent out a boat, two sailors, and a subordinate officer, to look. The ship, the Mary Celeste, was found in the following condition.

When the English officer and two sailors went on deck of the Mary Celeste, they found that the ship's "goods," and the "large casks of wine" carried from the forepeak, were in perfect condition. The birds, ropes, masts, and life preservers were also in their proper places.

In the dining room of the ship's cabin, a table for four was set with a half-eaten dinner. A boiled egg was found, half-eaten, and a bottle of cough syrup, which was used for children, was still standing, even though the cork had been opened, indicating how calm the sea was. Not far from the table, a sewing machine was turned on, and a child's shirt was found, which turned out to be a mother and child. A search of the captain's cabin revealed nothing. Even his money box was full of money. The captain's log book, the ship's travel book, states that the Mary Leslie had left Boston, America, for Lisbon, Portugal.

The diary records "up to October 16th" and makes no mention of heavy rain, strong winds, or storms. However, they were greatly surprised to find that the ship was empty and quiet. They found some women's clothing and children's toys, indicating that there was at least one woman and a child on board. The ship's log records also mention the captain's wife and child.

The English captain's opinion was that the Mary Celeste was found at a considerable distance from where the crew had left it. For the Mary Celeste was found at latitude 38° 40' and longitude 17° 15' (west), and the winds were blowing from the coast of Africa, and there were very strong currents. There was no leak in the ship, no engine failure, and no valuable cargo was lost, and the crew was lost, which was an inconceivable fact. Their fate was unknown, and one more was added to the list of "lost ships" that the ancient explorers had never found.

Finally, the American schooner was brought to Gibraltar by an English ship. The Gibraltar Gazette at the time had the following article about the incident:

The Mary Clapton was a two-masted sailing ship owned by the New York City company of the Yorkshire Invoicing Company. She was 170 tons. Her captain was W. T. (B), a man who had been with the company for many years, and was a good seaman. He had his wife, aged 31, and a daughter, aged 5. There were seven crew members on board, including two Africans and a child. The first of the three passengers was a doctor named Morrison from Brooklyn, and the second was a Mr. Settler, an American, and the third was a Mr. Harting, a ship's companion. Of the fourteen people on board, none was ever found, and all were presumed dead.

Upon further inspection of the ship, they found something that had been cut into the side of the ship, either with a knife or an axe, at the stern. They found traces of the sailors' clothes, their medicine bottles, and their sticks.

The work was found intact.

Not only American newspapers but also English newspapers wrote about the ship for a long time , and a columnist in a newspaper called "Spectator" gave a very imaginative idea. He said that the reason why the Mary Celeste, along with the captain, crew, and passengers, disappeared without a trace was as follows. A huge sea serpent, or an eight-legged "autophagus" or sea slug, had hidden itself under the ship's hull and was eating the crew, one by one, starting with the helmsman. The axe found in the stern of the ship was probably a sign of resistance to the giant creature. Since these sea slugs are abundant in the Mediterranean Sea, and the place where the ship was found is not far from there, it is logical to write that

The above article is just the opinion of the columnist, so if it is true, it may be true. If it is wrong, it may be wrong. However, sometimes the opinions of very thoughtful and well-informed writers can reveal even major murders that were not initially discovered, and the editor of the newspaper wrote a comment under the article.

How to get the package

An American named “P. Morrison,” who had worked as a doctor at the BOC Hospital in Nyaung Hla for many years, had fled to Pyay during the last war to escape the war. He met me at the bar on the waterfront of Pyay.

At that time, Japanese planes had begun attacking small boats in Upper, Thayet and Kanma, so Mr. Morrison left work at once with the intention of crossing from Pyay to Padaung and returning to India.

After two days in the boathouse, Mr. Morrison became my friend and we became quite acquainted. When he learned of my "occupation," he asked me about novels and the publishing of newspapers in Burma, and I, fearing that the literary standard of Burma was low, boasted to him rather proudly.

He asked me how much I could earn if I wrote a novel in Myanmar and sold it to a publisher without publishing it myself. I said I could earn 500 to 1000 kyats. When I asked about short stories, I said I could earn 50 to 100 kyats. But in reality, a novel costs 150 to 300 kyats at most, while short stories only cost 15 to 40 or 50 kyats.

“Oh, it’s not much. We have a minimum of $150 for a story that we use in a magazine. That’s for a small story. For really famous people like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and H.G. Wells, we get at least $500 for a special commission. For a long novel, we get $1,000 to $3,000. For a really famous story by a big guy like this, we get up to $5,000,” said P. Morrison.

"This is... My dear friends, the literary field in Burma is still narrow and the readership is still small. After independence, when we can write and publish freely, the standards of journalism will rise and we will be able to improve a lot, even if it is not as good as yours," I said.

"Moreover... what kind of novels do you have that are popular?"

"So, I still need to be good at writing."

“I'm not talking about writing. I'm talking about the story.”

"Books about love are quite extensive."

"I often write from imagination... yes." "Of course." "Don't you practice writing about real events?"

"They write"

Then a doctor and a military officer arrived, and we left without speaking.

Mr. Morrison's wife dressed like an American woman, but she had a nose like a Mughal and dark eyes, so I decided she was an Indian. They had two children, the eldest boy about 12 years old and the youngest girl about 8 years old. The children were of different sexes, as were the kapias.

They were beautiful and charming children, having inherited the combined features of their mother and father. However, one peculiarity was that Mr. Morrison and the two children were missing their left ears. I noticed this the day after they arrived.

That night, around 8:00 PM, Dr. Morrison and I had finished dinner and went out to the veranda in front of the barracks, each sitting in a wicker chair and smoking cigarettes, chatting away. Morrison continued the story he had told us that morning...

“There is a true story, U Tin Maung. I can’t say whether you believe it or not. But regardless of these things, the story is a very strange one.”

"Tell me, Doctor."

"Aw... Look at me instead. What kind of person do you think I am?"

"I thought it was a flat tire." This is true, but I can't be more specific.

"U Tin Maung's"

"To be precise, it must be both Western and Eastern. It must be both Western and Eastern."

"What are you doing?"

"I can tell by your hair and nose. The meat is American meat."

“That’s right, U Tin Maung. Everything you said is true. My grandfather is a true Burmese. My grandmother is an American. Oh, and since you’re a writer, I have to ask you something. What do you think the Americans and the English think about the Burmese, and about you, the yellow and black people?”

"How should we treat them? We should treat these people as inferior to us."

“That’s right, they thought I had Burmese blood and sent me to Nyaung Hla instead of giving me a job at Yangon General Hospital.” *

"If I may say this without looking at your face, these people are not good people at all. If you are like me, you are a good person. We Burmese people don't even remember the fried fish paste. Let alone the Indians and Africans."

"You are absolutely right. Don't you know that the United States fought a war over the sale of black African slaves? Knowledge is knowledge, my friend. It doesn't matter whether you are black or white, or whether you are a real American or not."

But... they haven't repented yet, ah...