The Doldrums

Day Unknown

Hour Unknown

As of late I have received a report that one of my crew is unaccounted for and presumed missing; a man by the name of Isor, who reportedly had been seen mopping the portside deck right before he disappeared. I went to investigate where several others of my crew had reported seeing him and indeed he was gone. We could only see the mop and bucket as evidence that he was in the middle of his task when he vanished. The most bizarre of all was when I picked up the mop. It had attached to it a sticky residue of some kind that stretched and provided such a resistance that I had to cut it with a knife to free the mop from its grasp. There was also another strange element upon both the mop and the bucket. There seemed to be white scraped along the wood of the bucket and mop handle. Though I find this color strange, I feel that this could be of some explainable origin. The concern and task at hand is to find my missing crew member and put my crew and I at ease.

~ Captain Jacques Gallo

Day Unknown

Hour Unknown

We still cannot find our missing crew member. My fear is that he fell overboard. In my thorough investigation I found no evidence of anything that would cause him to do so. My crew, however, fears that it has something to do with the great bellows still heard and the strange substance that was discovered attached to the mop handle. I’m not sure what to think, though. I am constantly in a struggle to keep myself and my crew of level head and sound mind.

~ Captain Jacques Gallo

Day Unknown

Hour Unknown

A dire situation has come upon myself and the safety of another one of my crew members. My first mate has been stabbed and I fear the wound may be fatal.

Having heard of this happening, I immediately investigated the surrounding actions leading to his wounding and found that my first mate had come upon another member of my crew who had broke into a barrel of alcohol and consumed enough to achieve intoxication. Upon his discovery, he became defensive and attacked my first mate with a knife, cutting him deep along his abdomen. The struggle attracted the attention of several other crewmembers whom, upon my questioning, served as witness on my first mate’s behalf. As a temporary solution, I ordered the chaining of the perpetrator to an adjacent post in the very cargo hold where this heinous assault occurred. He will be brought to court and tried when we reach the Azores. As for my first mate, I see no choice but for us to brave the raging sea in hopes that he receives aid in that town settled on the cliffs.

~ Captain Jacques Gallo

Day Unknown

Hour Unknown

I am thankful to say that many of my crew volunteered to brave the turbulent sea to take the first mate to shore. In even the most dire of situations I find comfort in knowing that I am truly blessed.

I decided it best that three of my crew take the first mate to shore. They lowered the rowboat and we wished them well as they set off. The rowboat seemed to handle the swells pretty well and they soon disappeared into the fog. I assigned several of my crew to keep watch and to let me know as soon as they are sighted upon their return. As I write this I pray that the Almighty will see them through and ensure their safety.

~ Captain Jacques Gallo

Day Unknown

Hour Unknown

A couple of days after they set off a knock of such distress awoke me in my quarters. The crew member had a face of great concern and fright. He was so frantic that he couldn’t speak. Other members of my crew matched his state as they just stared out into the sea.

When I saw what they were looking at I couldn’t help but join them. There floating just outside the wall of fog, were fragments of lumber from what we all feared was that of the rowboat. As we watched, our fears were confirmed as an oar broke through the fog to accompany the other debris. The very same white was streaked along the oar and lumber as it was on the vessel’s deck before. We watched, expecting worse to break through the fog. We stood there for what seemed like hours, waiting for our recently departed crew to float back to us. But there was nothing. Maybe the crew had made it to shore. It was possible that the boat had crashed into the outcroppings of rocks surrounding the cliffs that kept our vessel at bay and its passengers had survived. Since there is no way of knowing, I can only hope that this is the case. However, I am now torn between sending our last rowboat out to ease our minds, or to wait for any signs of their return. I feel that it’s better to tend to our worries as we wait. We cannot risk losing our last rowboat should peril befall our vessel.

~ Captain Jacques Gallo

Day Unknown

Hour Unknown

Possibly the most horrific event that anyone has ever heard or seen at sea has happened on my ship. I only write of this because it’s the only way I can rationalize what I heard and saw.

It was in the middle of the most docile the sea’s persistent torrent allowed. The crew and myself were at the most calm we’ve been since seeing the fragments of our rowboat that carried our wounded first mate. This calm was broken, however, when a great crash shook the ship as if the whole world had come down upon it. What followed that was a sound from below deck that chilled the blood of every passenger of this vessel. It was of a man screaming. But unlike any scream that I was sure any man could have made. In response to this I ran, along with every member of my crew, down to where it came from. We all stood and stared in shock. The crewmember we had imprisoned was gone. Almost. What remained were his arms; hanging from the shackles that kept him attached to the post. I looked over and saw a hole in the wall of the ship. Water was entering the hold in immense gulps as each wave slapped against us. In our panic we rushed to nail boards the best we could to minimize the sea’s intrusion. White stains and even a sticky film were present along the perimeter of the hole, and even on the arms and post itself. For a man dedicated to rationale, I find it most inappropriate that I am actually writing this. But I have no other way to draw any other conclusions. I fear, given the sound of the prisoner’s scream, the hole with boards broken inward, and the strange substance present upon them, that something broke through our vessel and took him.

Though we have repaired the hole the best we could, it is still taking on water and it will only be a matter of time before the sea consumes us. It is with great reluctance that I make my decision for the remainder of the crew and myself to brave the swells of this sea of madness and make haste for shore with the aims of seeking safety there. I know it be that the will of the Almighty seeks to ensure our safety and that he will be with us every step of the way.

~ Captain Jacques Gallo

End of journal.

I find it rather strange that the name of this ship Captain Gallo commanded was never mentioned. It was as if it had been purposely hidden. I could not find it anywhere in the journal, etched or otherwise. There also seemed to me that there were no attempts made to omit or conceal any words or passages.

Another strange observation of this journal was what seemed to be white paint staining the aging paper and binding. The very same that was mentioned by Captain Gallo himself. Based on folklore I have heard concerning the elements and succession of events stated in his log, I can only venture to guess that Captain Gallo commanded the ill-fated ship known by sailors and fishermen alike as the Stella Del Mattino. And the legend goes like this:

On nights at sea where the skies are black and empty and there is not a breath of wind by which to sail, there is heard a great bellow as if from a horn blown from the bottom of the sea. And there from a mysterious, materializing fog comes a ship with lights that glow bright as the sun, yet boast the colors of all the fires of hell. The ship doth sail as if there was a sturdy gust present. But its sails are torn to shreds and its masts are twisted and bent. As the ship drifts closer, you can see a great crack come up from where it rests upon the sea and all across the deck. But that’s not the worst of its condition. For its crew is that by which insanity and madness is defined. For, they are not of men, or beast, or demon. They possess a new, as yet unnamed attribute. They, in all their terrifying composure have taken on the likeness of the sea. Their pigment is of greens and blues and blacks and other such abyssal hues. Their hair is of seaweeds and their skin is but barnacles and shells. Their faces are blank and marauding with all the damnation of a world. And in their states they are unaware of what they are. For they work as if nothing had happened at all. Some even hear an infant crying from the captain’s quarters. But nothing is heard again after that. And as soon as you get close enough to discount such a sight as illusion, the ship disappears as if one had been awakened from a dream: As many have considered this sight to be.

END