You are in the. . .

Spinning captain's wheel Glittering treasure chest


This rather large, round room is at the top of one of the towers near the northeast corner of the house. The only entrance is through a hatch in the floor near the north wall. Another hatch leads out to a narrow catwalk encircling the wheelhouse. Large windows ring the room, giving an almost 360 degree view of the lands surrounding the house. The floor is of inlaid wood, brass, and mother of pearl designed in the shape of a giant compass encircled by sea creatures both real and mythical. The center of the room is dominated by a large, wooden ship's wheel. On a nearby table is a model of a majestic sailing frigate inside an enormous glass bottle. Decorative ropes and netting containing seashells, shark's teeth, old coins, and other small ornaments are draped here and there between the ceiling and carved, wooden kneewalls. Against a freestanding, muraled partition is a grand figurehead of finely polished wood carved in the likeness of a fierce sea maiden. A small bronze cannon together with a neatly stacked pile of small cannonballs resides in the southwest corner of the room. And amongst the cushioned wicker chairs and driftwood furniture are collections of stacked sea trunks, and fine, glass cases containing all manner of nautical instruments, maps and charts, and assorted treasures.

Sea Fever

By John Masefield

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

Shiny ship's anchor