Ship's Log

LOG 1

Our ship has set sail at last. Throughout our time in the harbor we continued to find crack after crack. Rip after rip. Barnacle after barnacle. It was almost as if the ship did not want to carry us. But finally after nearly three weeks we seemed to have found them all. The ocean is calm and a warm breeze blows us into open waters. We are sailing out with 11 men and our supposedly precious cargo. I reckon it’s about the government of the United States of America. I like the name well enough. Some of the other crew members don’t like that we’re on friendly terms with ‘em. The cook fought in the war and lost his leg. A few others have battle scars but none quite as serious. Other people think that our cargo might be a person. A lady they think. I’m bettin’ they only be wishin’ that because they’ve never had a lady themselves. There’s the dinner bell. I better be gettin’ goin’ before the grub’s gone.

LOG 2

The sunset last night was a sight to behold. The sky lit up like a torch. Flickered like one too. All sorts of reds n’ oranges n’ pinks. It’s mornin’ now and the ocean reflects the sky in its clear blue hue. Us deckhands have a bit of a break right now so I’m writin’ in this silly little book. The other salts are pokin’ fun at me for keepin’ a journal but I reckon it’s cause they can’t read a word that I’m writin’. My mum told me to write down things that happen so I don’t go forgettin’ them before I can tell her. This is my first journey after all and she wants to hear everythin’ as soon as I get back. The captain told us that the voyage would be between 10 and 20 days. So I told my mum I’ll be seein’ her in two months. She told me I’d better be back before the two months was up or she’d start thinkin’ I got lost at sea. I told her not to worry too much. Voyages like ours happen all the time and ours was no different than any other. Break’s up. Time to get back to work.

LOG 3

Somethin’ weird happened today. A few of us had just finished scrubbin’ the deck when the captain came out in a panic, askin’ if anyone had seen the quartermaster. He paced the deck tellin’ everyone to hurry the hell up and find ‘im or he’d start tossin’ the crew overboard. After a while of yellin’ we found the quartermaster surrounded by empty bottles on the floor in the kitchen. He’d drunk himself dizzy. This wasn’t really that strange but the captain's skittishness even after the event was. Everyone is curious what spooked the captain so. Two or three of us, includin’ me, are bettin’ it’s somethin’ to do with the special cargo we’re carryin’. The captain has called a meetin’ to hopefully tell us what he was so scared of. I have a bet goin’ on what it might be. Cross my fingers that I get a little richer tonight.

LOG 4

The meetin’ was rather odd. Especially havin’ everyone think about it the morni’g after. The captain kept babblin’ about some disturbances in his sleep and wonderin’ if anyone else had had somethin’ like it. No one else had. This seemed to make him even more anxious. I was sittin’ in the back of the room but I could still see sweat drippin’ down his face. I wonder if he’s fallen ill. The sky isn’t quite as blue today. Its great expanse is interrupted by puffs of grey and white. I hope there isn’t no storm comin’ in. I’ve heard plenty of horror stories of storms at sea. Storms are when ships go missin’ and crews disappear. I shouldn’t even be writin’ about it. Don’t want to jinx us. There’s some kind of commotion happenin’ below decks. I’m gonna go see what it is.

LOG 5

Somethin’ real bad has happened. Worse than storms or sharks or anythin’ of the like. A crew member has died. Even worse is that it was the bloody surgeon. He was found down in the steerage. He wasn’t supposed to be down there and no one had a clue why he was. The captain himself had found him facedown between all the other boxes of mail. By the time I’d gotten down they had flipped his body over. I only got one look at him but that face will stick with me for the rest of my life. I had seen people scared before. Lots of times. But the look of terror on the surgeon's face when he died turned everyone’s blood colder than the sea we sailed through. For a long while no one said anythin’. We were all excusing it as letting the dead rest in peace but I reckon that all of us were dead scared about touchin’ his body. I know I certainly was. Finally the silence was broken by the captain’s orders that we would do a sea burial that evenin’. Everyone solemnly followed the captain up the stairs. Two men had been chosen to carry the body and I was glad indeed that I wasn’t one of them. As I turned to go I noticed the cook had stayed behind. I asked him if he was comin’ up. His body was slightly turned from me but I could see he was holdin’ somethin’ that looked like a letter. I asked what he was lookin’ at and he started like a man that had been wokin’ from a stupor with a bucket of water. He told me it was nothin’ and to mind my own damn business. He stormed past me up the stairs. I was slightly taken aback by his outburst. I took one final look around the dark space and then went back up the stairs.

LOG 6

The funeral was a rather quick affair. No one had really known the surgeon all that well because he had just joined the crew. I had a rather disturbin’ thought that if this were my funeral it would be much the same. I was friendly with two of the powder boys but not with anyone else. I tried my best to dispel the thought from my mind but even now in my cot it still haunts me. The captain had done most of the talkin’ at the funeral. He said things about the dead man serving bravely in the military and that his death was one of natural causes. I didn’t believe him on the last part. I don’t think anyone did. Fear is what killed him. The look still frozen on his white face reminded us of that. We were all wonderin’ what had scared him so but when we tried to ask the captain he swiftly shut down the questionin’. After the dead man had been tipped overboard the crew talked in quiet tones for the rest of the night. The cook, always one to make jokes even in the darkest of times, was oddly silent. He handed out the evenin’ meal without so much as a word. That brought the mood down even more. It took a long while for any man on that ship to fall into any kind of rest that night.

LOG 7

No one slept well last night. I know I felt the death hangin’ over my head and I guessed everyone else did as well. I had very odd dreams as well. I felt like there was somethin’ that was waitin’ for me in the darkness of my mind. Waitin’ for me to step out of a shaft of light. I felt that it was both menacin’ and allurin’. I was terrified by it but I wanted to see what it was. The bell for breakfast woke me up just as I was about to step out of the light. I feel rather glad of it. I don’t know what the dream was about but I feel sure it’s nothin’ good.

LOG 8

The cook is dead. I got up for breakfast to find that it had been postponed. They had laid the cook on the upper deck. Everyone was even more distraught than with the surgeon. Two deaths in two days. I wondered miserably if the pattern would continue. If it did, who would be next? The captain seemed to be somewhat hopeless. As he announced the same things he had done with the surgeon he acted as if he was trying to get used to it. Like soon he would be givin’ the same speech for all of us. I learned from the boatswain who announced this to everyone that the cook had been found sprawled faced down in the kitchen with a knife in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. At this the captain grabbed the boatswain’s shoulders. He asked, practically yellin’ where the piece of paper was. The boatswain reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper which the captain immediately snatched from his hand and crushed into a ball. He asked the surprised man whether he’d looked at it or not. The boatswain said that he had. The captain’s face drained of color. He told him to not tell a soul. Then he turned to us and told us that if we asked about it we’d be tied upside down to the mast for the rest of the voyage. He stomped off to his cabin. Today the sky is entirely grey. Not one blue speck to be seen. The wind has also died away to almost nothin’. A shark was also spotted. Every sailer worth his salt knows that a shark followin’ your boat is a sign of bad luck. The entire ship seems sort of muted. I suppose that is what two unexplained deaths can do to a ship. As well as the captain’s strange actions. He had not said anythin’ about a funeral but we assumed it would be in the evening as it had been before.

LOG 9

The crew had more to say about the cook. If everyone wasn’t scared before they certainly are now. There is talk of abandoning ship discouraged only by the fact that the first shark has been joined by three others. People are starting to panic. A shark followin’ a boat means that someone on board is gonna die. Since two people have died it makes sense that two sharks would be followin’ but the other two means that two more will die. The captain finally came out of the confines of his quarters. When we began to speak of the other sharks he shouted at us to not be so superstitious and to throw the dead man’s body overboard. Everyone protested. We would just be feedin’ the sharks, not givin’ him a proper burial. The captain ignored us and pushed the body over the side himself. As soon as it hit the water the sharks were on it. Ripping and tearin’ at the bloated flesh. None of us cared to watch the horrible scene. Several of the crew turned on the captain sayin’ that what he’d done was a hell worthy offense and that he had just ruined the burial. He again ignored them and went and locked himself in his cabin.

LOG 10

I’m not sure if anyone slept. And in the morning it seemed we wouldn’t have any reason to for a while. Both the captain and the boatswain are dead. The captain in his cabin and the boatswain on deck. The same deal as the others. Faced down and terrified when we turned them over. We couldn’t get organized enough to make time for a burial so their bodies were just moved to the side. Three deckhands and the midshipman broke down the captain’s locked door. I was told that he clutched the letter that he’d taken from the boatswain so tightly that they had barely been able to pry it from him. The four men who read it would not let anyone else do so. Perhaps they took the captain’s warning to the boatswain seriously and didn’t want anyone else to fall prey whatever it contained. There is now a school of sharks swimming on all sides of the boat. We were easily able to count eight of the massive beasts in the glassy water. There was no wind that day and the sails hung limp. We are just sittin’ and waitin’. We don’t know exactly what we’re waitin’ for but we all know it isn’t anythin’ good. Nothin’ can be after what’s happened.

LOG 11

The men who read the letter are seein’ things. It’s around suppertime but no one’s feelin’ hungry. The three deckies and the midshipman keep on sayin’ they see somethin’ out of the corner of their eyes. Somethin’ big and black and horrible. They keep sayin’ it’s comin’ for them. Over and over again like a chant. It’s pretty damn disturbin’ and me and the two powder boys are gettin’ scared out.

LOG 12

They found them all dead. All four of them. Huddled in the corner of the cot room, curled up tight. The letter lay on the floor in front of their balled up bodies. Despite all the things that have happened to those who read the letter the powder boys did it. They told me that they wouldn’t let me read it. They told me I had to be the one that survived this. I personally didn’t want to be the last person left on this ship so I tried to take it from them but they threatened to lock me in the steerage if I did. The last thing I wanted was to be left alone in the dark. I agreed to stop. The day inched along. I was afraid to count the sharks but I did anyway. Ten sharks. My blood runs cold. They are going to die and I will be the only one left. The ship has stopped moving entirely. The wind did not come back as I’d hoped the day before. The air is dead and heavy with the lack of it. Again all we do is wait. The others tell me to hide during the night and not to go look for them the mornin’ after. I don’t know if I can bear it.

LOG 13

It turns out that I can’t bear it. The next morning after hidin’ in the recesses of the kitchen for the entire night jumpin’ at every sound I leave and begin my horrible search. I find their bodies in steerage clutchin’ each other, the letter sandwiched between them. I just stare at them for a long time and then take the letter out from between them. My hands shake as I begin to read it. It is not really a letter but more a description. It even has a picture next to it. It’s of a human lookin’ shape with rounded shoulders and slightly too long arms and legs. It has no visible details or features but I somehow feel like it is watchin’ me out of the paper. The description is as written:

It will haunt you in your sleep. Then the hunt begins. It prefers ships. You will see it out of the corner of your eye until you are almost dead. It’s coming for me. I can’t run.

I drop the paper. Somethin’ moved in the corner of my vision. I whirl around but there is nothin’. I race up the stairs to the main deck lean over the edge to count the sharks. There’s eleven now. One for everyone who was on the ship includin’ me. My breathin’ is fast and hard. Somethin’ moves again in the corner of my eye. Again I whirl but there’s nothin’ there. My legs collapse and I sit against the mast with my eyes tight shut. I don’t know how long exactly I stay that way but when I dare to open them again it’s night. There is nothin’ in the corner of my eye and I wonder if it has left. That is when I hear it. Footsteps. Heavy foot steps on the stairs. I didn’t check if the powder boys were actually dead. Maybe it’s them. But I know in my heart that it is something else. I can’t seem to close my eyes to block out the view of whatever is coming. It’s coming for me. It’s coming for me. It’s coming for-