Prevod
Leta 1647 so kolonisti iz New Havena, ki so že tako zgodaj kazali podjetnost, pozneje značilno za Jenkije, poslali ladjo na Irsko, da bi skušali vzpostaviti trgovske stike, saj so Švedi uničili njihove trgovske postojanke ob reki Delaware. Ko je njihov zastopnik, kapitan Lamberton, januarja odplul, je bilo pristanišče tako vklenjeno v led, da so morali skozi ledene plošče izsekati pot do odprte vode, oddaljene pet milj. Ladjo so morali poleg tega izvleči s krmo naprej — kar so mornarji imeli za slabo znamenje — in ko se je obrnila po vetru, jo je pas megle za hip skril očem ljudi na obali, ki so tudi v tem videli napoved nesreče. Čeprav je bila velika in nova, se je tako močno zibala, da je kapitan odrinil s tesnobo v srcu, in ko se je oddaljevala, je posadka s pomola zaslišala slovesno, a malodušje vzbujajočo prošnjo duhovnika: »Gospod, če je tvoja volja, da te naše prijatelje pokoplješ na dnu morja, jih vzemi; tvoji so: reši jih.«
Minila je zima, za njo pomlad, ladje pa še vedno ni bilo. Nekega junijskega popoldneva, takoj po dežju, pa so otroci vzkliknili: »Glejte, kako veličastna ladja!« Kajti v pristanišče je z vsemi razpetimi jadri in plapolajočimi zastavami priplula ladja, »prav takšne oblike kakor naša«, kot je dejal duhovnik.
Nenavadno pa je bilo, da je plula naravnost proti vetru; na krovu ni bilo mornarjev; ni se zibala pod sunki valov; ob njenem premcu se voda ni niti vzvalovila. Ko se je približala kopnemu, se je na krmnem delu prikazala samotna postava, ki je s sabljo kazala proti odprtemu morju. Nato je nenadoma padel koš glavnega jambora, jambori so se iztrgali iz svojih ležišč in se zrušili, razbita ladja pa se je nagnila na bok in potonila. Z neba se je spustil oblak in nekaj časa obvisel nad krajem, kjer je izginila; ko se je dvignil, je bila morska gladina prazna in mirna. Dobri ljudje iz New Havena so verjeli, da se jim je naposled razkrila usoda pogrešane ladje, saj se ni nikoli vrnila in o kapitanu Lambertonu ni bilo več nobenega glasu.
Izvirnik
In 1647 the New Haven colonists, who even at that early day exhibited the enterprise that has been a distinguishing feature of the Yankee, sent a ship to Ireland to try to develop a commerce, their trading posts on the Delaware having been broken up by the Swedes. When their agent, Captain Lamberton, sailed--in January--the harbor was so beset with ice that a track had to be cut through the floes to open water, five miles distant. She had, moreover, to be dragged out stern foremost--an ill omen, the sailors thought--and as she swung before the wind a passing drift of fog concealed her, for a moment, from the gaze of those on shore, who, from this, foretold things of evil. Though large and new, the ship was so “walty”--inclined to roll--that the captain set off with misgiving, and as she moved away the crew heard this solemn and disheartening invocation from a clergyman on the wharf:--“Lord, if it be thy pleasure to bury these, our friends, in the bottom of the sea, take them; they are thine: save them.”
Winter passed; so did spring; still the ship came not; but one afternoon in June, just as a rain had passed, some children cried, “There's a brave ship!” for, flying up the harbor, with all sail set and flaunting colors, was a vessel “the very mould of our ship,” the clergyman said.
Strange to tell, she was going flat against the wind; no sailors were on her deck; she did not toss with the fling of the waves; there was no ripple at her bow. As she came close to land a single figure appeared on the quarter, pointing seaward with a cutlass; then suddenly her main-top fell, her masts toppled from their holdings, the dismantled hulk careened and went down. A cloud dropped from heaven and brooded for a time above the place where it had vanished, and when it lifted the surface of the sea was empty and still. The good folk of New Haven believed that the fate of the absent ship had been revealed, at last, for she never came back and Captain Lamberton was never heard from.
