A Castaways Tale

A time not long ago
In a place somehow not far away
One man upon the sea, cast adrift
A small boat, fortunate to escape the shipwreck with ere but his life
Worthless now as it seems
Drifting, drifting for many nights upon this sea
Forgotton by all, and slowly dying, as day slides into endless night
Shivering, his eyes begin to close
As he slips into a dream world
The sea is becalmed
Nigh but the soft slap of water agin' the side of his tiny craft
Then, in his dream, he hears a sound
A rythmic creaking, familiar but not
He raises his head and sees off his starboard bow
A ship, like no ship he has ever seen, except in a painting
A two-masted brigantine with her sails in tatters
Although she appears to be making way
With no means of propulsion
No lights shine from her ports
Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes
It must be something his mind has conjured up
He fears he is becoming unhinged
But still the ship comes, approaching him slowly
He raises his hands and attempts to call out
But days without water reduce his voice to a croak
And the ship glides slowly by, close enough to rock his boat
But still so far away
Desperate now, he picks up the oar
And slams it against the gunwale, once, twice, and again
And suddenly a light shines out from the ship
Not a bright light, mayhap a lantern
Then he hears voices, and he croaks again
And then, strained beyond endurance, his vision fades
And he slumps, unconscious, back to the bottom of his boat
He awakes sometime later, and immediately realizes
That something has changed, the motion of the sea is gone
He still lays in the bottom of his boat, to be sure
He slowly raises his head, and it is then that he realizes
His boat is beached, he has found land!
His dream of the night before was only a dream
He turns to look out to sea, for the night is gone, and the day is breaking
And it is then he sees the ship, the two-masted ship
Sails in tatters, sailing slowly away from him
And squinting into the breaking sun
He can read the name on her stern
And a chill passes through him, raising gooseflesh head to toe
He rubs at his eyes, surely he's read the name wrong
But the letters on the fantail are faded but still legible
"Mary Celeste"....