The Ghost Pirates is an interesting early case of polished, ambitious, evocative literature hiding in the guise of pulp horror. Some reviewers have likened William Hope Hodgson to both Joseph Conrad and H.P. Lovecraft, and both comparisons are apt. With titles like Heart of Darkness and The Secret Sharer, Conrad expressed the confusion and peril of a hostile environment, the mystery, the potential for exploitation, and the psychic toll of a life lived in marginal, undelineated spaces. Such statements easily apply to The Ghost Pirates. As for Lovecraft, he was himself familiar with the novel, writing that “with its command of maritime knowledge, and its clever selection of hints and incidents suggestive of latent horrors in nature, this book at times reaches enviable peaks of power.”
The story, taking superb advantage of “nested narration” (in which a character tells a story about a character telling a story) — one of Conrad’s own favorite techniques — begins with a sailor named Jessop taking a position aboard an allegedly “haunted” ship. As the story progresses, he recounts, with concern for discretion and with little emotion, the incremental attacks visited upon the ship. The word “incremental” is key; for a book that is relatively short and moves so quickly, revelation is always (agonizingly) just out of reach. This is effective storytelling and effective horror largely because it incorporates enticing details — about the ship, about the sailors, about the attacks — while forcing the reader to interpret everything else. Even the final moments, which seem to play out in grotesque slow-motion, offers us a visceral look at the horror without defining it.
If you like Lovecraft, or Conrad, or any horror writers who value that early Gothic emphasis on murky shadows and ambiguity, then you’ll probably enjoy The Ghost Pirates. This one can be enjoyed both for its powerful emotional effects as well as for the care and skill in its craft and composition.