I can feel a vicious storm swelling on the sea, the intensity and lust of the ocean growing and raising from the water to wreak havoc on those that oppose her... It is a beautifully dangerous thing indeed.
Regardless of my passion, I am no fool, and I know the potential for danger. Mr. Smee informs me that we should bypass the storm and that we are not by any means to change course. I wish I could say I share his confidence, but I can't. I feel that his arrogant and impervious attitude will surely get us all killed, if not now, soon.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Diary Entry 11 -- June 7, 1778
I wish I had never embarked on this journey, especially now, knowing what I know.
In the few days since my last entry, four men under my command have died from undernourishment. Despite Mr. Smee's strict orders, I visited the cargo and peaked inside a few crates. As a man familiar with the transportation of cargo across seas, I immediately noticed there had been no wear on the crates from the insertion of goods, as there commonly is when moving goods of this quantity. There was also no powder residue along the brim of the containers. I took the liberty upon myself to pry the first crate open. What did I find?
Nothing. No food. No guns. No jewels or gold. No money. Just empty, dry air.
Surely there has been some mistake, correct? This voyage cannot be for bloody nothing, can it? What would be the point?
I just approached Mr. Smee with my discovery. I admit, I approached him a bit violently, but having been sailing for weeks and honestly having no clue where we are anymore, I believe this reaction is justifiable. However, when I informed him that I would no longer put up with his insolence and that I planned to sail back to London, he would not allow it. He told me to have faith in Mr. Darling's commands. "Things are not always as they seem," he said. What does that mean? What does any of it mean?
In the few days since my last entry, four men under my command have died from undernourishment. Despite Mr. Smee's strict orders, I visited the cargo and peaked inside a few crates. As a man familiar with the transportation of cargo across seas, I immediately noticed there had been no wear on the crates from the insertion of goods, as there commonly is when moving goods of this quantity. There was also no powder residue along the brim of the containers. I took the liberty upon myself to pry the first crate open. What did I find?
Nothing. No food. No guns. No jewels or gold. No money. Just empty, dry air.
Surely there has been some mistake, correct? This voyage cannot be for bloody nothing, can it? What would be the point?
I just approached Mr. Smee with my discovery. I admit, I approached him a bit violently, but having been sailing for weeks and honestly having no clue where we are anymore, I believe this reaction is justifiable. However, when I informed him that I would no longer put up with his insolence and that I planned to sail back to London, he would not allow it. He told me to have faith in Mr. Darling's commands. "Things are not always as they seem," he said. What does that mean? What does any of it mean?
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Diary Entry 10 -- June 4, 1778
Our food supply is running dangerously low, I fear. One crewman by the name of Joseph Biggs has already taken ill. He suffered and groaned all through the night and finally fell unconscious early this morning. Hopefully we will have made port by the time he awakens.
I spoke to Mr. Smee about searching the cargo for food, but he refuses to allow me to make that order. Perhaps I am mistaken, but I was under the influence that I was the captain of this ship. However, he insisted that the Darlings would not take kindly to stealing from their cargo, so I will listen to him for now.
At least I can count on the sea to remain a calm and gentle force until we arrive in Carrickfergus.
Diary Entry 9 -- June 2, 1778
To my amazement, we have not yet reached our destination. I chose to set sail to Carrickfergus, which only made sense to me as it is where all of this began. I allotted my crew one week to sail the Encounter to the port of Carrickfergus, and it has now been nearly two weeks since we have embarked on this voyage.
Perhaps I have misjudged my bearings? No, I don't believe so. I know my way around these waters all too well to make such a mediocre mistake.
I have ordered the crew to take smaller food rations for their meals, as this venture is lasting much longer than originally intended. A few men, however, have not had the chance to eat as much as others and have shown symptoms of illness. I expect to arrive at our destination within the next day, so I am off to inform my men they will find nourishment soon.
Perhaps I have misjudged my bearings? No, I don't believe so. I know my way around these waters all too well to make such a mediocre mistake.
I have ordered the crew to take smaller food rations for their meals, as this venture is lasting much longer than originally intended. A few men, however, have not had the chance to eat as much as others and have shown symptoms of illness. I expect to arrive at our destination within the next day, so I am off to inform my men they will find nourishment soon.
Diary Entry 8 -- May 26, 1778
Moments ago, I awoke from a nightmare. The silhouette of a man was standing in my home, in my absence, watching and listening to Rose and Frederick. Neither spoke. They roamed aimlessly around the house as this horrifying man concentrated his leering gaze on the two of them. Suddenly, Frederick collapsed to the floor and lay motionless. Moments later, Rose fell as well. There was no movement, no noise. Complete silence. The veiled man parted his lips slightly, and a grotesque mixture of putrid green and deep red dripped from his mouth down his chin to the floor. Suddenly, Frederick disappeared, faded into nothingness. It was in this moment I forced myself awake. It has only just set in that I truly miss my family and, in an irrational way, I worry about their safety from this mysterious being.
The thought, however, is nonsensical. It was only a dream.
Diary Entry 7 -- May 22, 1778
I had nearly forgotten how magnificent it was, the sight of the setting Sun on the boundless sea. I could watch endlessly as the Sun falls from the sky over the horizon and takes with it all the light that illuminates my way through this voyage. Now, I am guided only by the peaceful moonlight, reflecting and twinkling in the calm waters so subtly and elegantly. I could write on and on about Poseidon's great kingdom and all its majesty.
It is the first night aboard the Encounter. The captain's quarters are quite spacious, and have an almost royal design. Strong red banners line the sides of the room, while a deep, contrasting black covers the floor. The bed, centered delicately in the center of the room, seems large enough to fit all the women I've ever loved, and maybe even some that I haven't. A French armoire opened up to display several fine sets of clothing that only a nobleman would wear. While they are not quite to my taste, I won't be making any fuss about it.
I have made introductions with my crew of roughly sixty men. Prior to boarding, I spoke with Mr. Smee about our departure and where we are going, and he persisted to be just as vague as ever. He said slyly, yet deliberately, "Choose whichever direction fancies you, but never stray from course." He assured me that he would accompany me on this journey so that I do not wind up lost. Surely he knows that I, a man born and raised by the sea, could never get lost on her waters.
The dockers carried aboard several tons of cargo that I am meant to deliver to...wherever it is I am going. I assumed these crates were filled with food and other such goods, but when I questioned Mr. Smee about the contents, he sternly told me that I was getting paid to transport these crates, not to know what was inside them.
There has been almost complete silence on deck since nightfall, and I am compelled to write more on this exciting day, but I believe I will turn in early so I may catch the first light of morning.
It is the first night aboard the Encounter. The captain's quarters are quite spacious, and have an almost royal design. Strong red banners line the sides of the room, while a deep, contrasting black covers the floor. The bed, centered delicately in the center of the room, seems large enough to fit all the women I've ever loved, and maybe even some that I haven't. A French armoire opened up to display several fine sets of clothing that only a nobleman would wear. While they are not quite to my taste, I won't be making any fuss about it.
I have made introductions with my crew of roughly sixty men. Prior to boarding, I spoke with Mr. Smee about our departure and where we are going, and he persisted to be just as vague as ever. He said slyly, yet deliberately, "Choose whichever direction fancies you, but never stray from course." He assured me that he would accompany me on this journey so that I do not wind up lost. Surely he knows that I, a man born and raised by the sea, could never get lost on her waters.
The dockers carried aboard several tons of cargo that I am meant to deliver to...wherever it is I am going. I assumed these crates were filled with food and other such goods, but when I questioned Mr. Smee about the contents, he sternly told me that I was getting paid to transport these crates, not to know what was inside them.
There has been almost complete silence on deck since nightfall, and I am compelled to write more on this exciting day, but I believe I will turn in early so I may catch the first light of morning.
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