When we came to my brotherís house,
the family was out, but the dinner was still on the table and warm, thought of the mysterious schooner, Mary Celeste.
Slamming car doors and my wifeís shrill
voice had alerted them of our arrival
They were now hiding under the vines that grew sour grapes, but were red and nice to look at; the garden looked dry, so
we turned the sprinklers on before leaving.