Whisper from the pages of Weird Tales Magazine, August 1930. Some grudges do not drown with the body. They rise from the deep, salt-crusted and furious, to claim what was stolen.

“The Pirate” by R. Jere Black Jr. is one of those poems. A chilling tale of spectral vengeance, it follows a murdered buccaneer who refuses to rest in his watery grave, forever hunting those who sent him there. This atmospheric verse captures the essence of classic pulp horror—where death is not the end, and some vengeful spirits will forever haunt the living who wronged them.

Originally published in Weird Tales Volume 16, Number 2 (August 1930), this piece appeared in an issue packed with pulp legends, sharing pages with tales of cosmic dread and dark adventure from the magazine’s golden era.

The Pirate
by R. Jere Black Jr.

We lowered him down to the dismal deep,
By the light of a midnight moon;
We smiled as he sullenly sank to sleep, 
In the bed of the lone lagoon.

We lowered him down to the dismal dead, 
The scourge of a thousand ships, 
A weight at his feet and a hole in his head, 
And a grin on his livid lips. 

We lowered him down to the dismal deep, 
As dead as a man can be,
But every midnight I wake from sleep, 
And scream at the sight I see--

For there he’s standing beside my bed. 
The scourge of a thousand ships, 
The weight at his feet and the hole in his head, 
And the grin on his livid lips!

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