Mina Murray's journal August 8th. I'm on my way to visit Lucy. It will be good to spend time with a friend.
It has been two months now since I last heard from Jonathan, and I am desperate to keep my mind off it.
I know God will keep him safe. He must.
But besides that, I found an article in the Daily Graph that piqued my interest, though I can't explain why exactly.
I've pasted it here in my journal, so I might show Jonathan when he returns home. It is a fascinating tale.
A little after midnight, there was a strange sound from the sea. A faint, hollow booming that drifted over the small cargo ship called the Demeter.
A mist hovered over the water, hugging close to their bones. A mist unlike any other covered our very souls.
July 6th. Finished taking in cargo. 50 boxes of earth. A crew. Five souls. Three mates. A cook. And myself.
July 14th. The crew seems anxious, although they are all seasoned sailors.
There was malice in the air. Something dark was with them there.
July 16th. A mate reported in the morning that a member of the crew was missing. When they were unable to account for him, the men were more downcast than ever.
Rough hands dangling, rough wings. No time to be afraid. We refused to be ashamed. Bearing dead men carried home.
July 17th. One of the men came to my cabin during a rainstorm, swearing he had witnessed a haunting. He said that a tall, thin man had walked along the deck and then disappeared.
We tried to follow, but there was no one to be found.
I watched the deck alone. Fog was thicker than before. When the morning came. When the morning came.
July 29th. Another man gone. The crew decided to carry weapons with them from that point on.
August 3rd. At midnight, I went to relieve a man at the wheel, but the deck was completely abandoned.
No one was there.
And then my first mate came up to me, raving like a lunatic.
This darkness grips me. Darkness holds me. Save me. God, save me. There's a demon here. The demon's near.
The sea will save me from this ship. Bearing dead men carried home.
And the man flung himself into the sea.
Lord, have mercy upon me. I'm only a humble soul trying to do my duty.
Save me. God, save me.
When the ship came in to Tate Hill Pier, the Coast Guard was surprised at what he found.
Fifty boxes filled with dirt and the captain's log were found below deck, but not a soul alive.
The captain was dead, fastened by his hands, tied one over the other to a spoke of the wheel.
In his hands, he gripped a wooden crucifix.
There was a storm. Ghostly clouds from nowhere.
It poured and poured, and in the midst of it all, a ship.
Bearing dead men carried home.