I apologize to la Ciudad de Cadiz, I know nothing of her geography or attractions and fear I took great liberties.

Three weeks afore the Manticor had sailed from Cadiz shore, and now stood She midst a boiling sea which none had seen before. The Captain grabbed his trumpet down his voice it was a roar,

All Hands All Hands drop all the sails and furl them up all tight, Reverse the pumps and dowse us down or the ship will come alight, for we are in for the Devil’s own row and God preserve us this night.”

They Dowsed the sail they dowsed the mast they dowsed the steaming deck, a wonder it is they none of them drowned they made the ship so wet.

Under sea was seen the reddish glow of Hell’s mouth opening wide, then with a sudden leap the sea rose up and seemed to jump for the sky.

Lightning flashed to the clear blue sky and thunder answered back, not every Soul was still whole or even still alive.

As the noise and the heat and the scorching hail made the whole ship smoke and steam, and a few more men they lost some skin to the blistering hellish heat.

The sea became a mountain upon which the Manticor was tipped but the Captain put his prow downhill as they fell over the lip.

Faster than a skip-jack they fell, faster than a hawk, with stern aloft and and figurehead facing to the trough.

The Captain kept her well in hand and pointed to home shore, though he really hadn’t that much hope of arriving any more.

The Captain had a helmsman been before he’d earned his rank, and his muscled arms stood firm the task of keeping the rudder cranked.

For it wouldn’t do to get ahead, and he rather not be left behind, in the hellish brew of the devil’s own stew he’d rather ride the tide.

What two weeks sailing out had fetched was returned in a night and a day, with the speed and force of the hell wave’s course the journey speed away.

And on the e’en of that day although a long one it had been, they approached once more the home shore in the falling Manticor.

The narrow mouth to Cadiz Bay is a high and narrow grade, and behind is wide a spread out tide where the fishermen ply their trade.

As the Manticor threaded that needle’s eye against the ebbing tide, most of the force of the wave was lost and more was spread out wide,

But the Manticor still was going way too fast and seemed certain to smash and wreck and crash on the walls of stout Cadiz.

The walls of Cadiz form a sharpish prow that points to the bay that funnels the flow and the surging hellwave mostly spent was gathered and bunched and lifted again.

The Wave’s last force was split by Fortified prow, though the gate was stove and the wall was cracked you can still see it now.

And up rose the ship on the wave’s last crash it o’ertopped the wall with a surge and a splash and there stood the Manticor upright and tall singed and well grounded wedged to the wall.

The wave had washed clear the flimsy market stalls although there were a few drowned from the town and the figurehead was kissing the Chandler shop wall.

The Captain and crew with not much to do lived on the hulk as an unlucky few that none would permit on their own lucky ships for fear of becoming unlucky too.

And thirty years later when none were left who had ridden the Manticor home to her rest and their names never said so they were long forgot,

They broke her up for building new Old Town and a charred beam of wood was exposed behind a little fairy gate in all the new homes and shops as an averting charm against devilish harm.