Captain Logbook

Set sail from [town] after repairs. Several new crew members. The short one looks familiar. I’ll have to ask [name] about the new recruits tomorrow. Cargo: 16 stones of cotton, 6 heavy crossbows, 225 stones rope, 4 barrels of apples.

Mast snapped in the wind. The wood was rotten on the inside. No way to have known. [name] was crushed. I don’t think he’ll make it. Cargo: 15 wheels of cheese, 15 stones each, 45 stone crate of silk thread, 1000 stones raw iron ingots, 2 passengers ([name] and [name]).

Kraken retreated after we blew a tentacle off with a *cannon blast. Navigator [name] overboard with the maps and instruments. No heading in this fog. May Efferd help us all.

Fair seas. Cargo: 37 goblin slaves, 225 stones of iron manacles, 4 sets of thumb screws, one torture rack, throne made of child bones, 10 barrels of poison, 5 barrels of acid, 20 flasks of Premian Fire whiskey.


Threw the cursed thing overboard. Everything is a mess. The crew are cleaning the hold nonstop. The smell is terrible. Cargo: 22 goblin slaves, 225 stones of iron sludge, 5 empty barrels, 9 barrels of poison, 1 flask of Premian Fire whiskey, broken torture rack. 4 sets of thumb screws.

I can’t really explain what happened today. One moment the winds were still and the waves calm as could be. Suddenly the waters darkened and the tides threw us around like a rag doll. Lost at least 2 good crew overboard. Then it simply vanished as quick as it came, only to be replaced by clear skies and stillness. We’re about a days voyage from land. Might take a few nights in [town] to recover.

I know we packed 8 months rations for the 6 month journey around the cape, accounting for storms like the one blew us off course. I’m positive of it. I doubled-checked the inventory myself. And yet… It seems the portions are becoming less significant that the day before. Some of the crew have accused the new [cook] of hoarding extra rations to himself. Though, he seems to be quite as gaunt as the rest of us.

Ah, how the wind blesses us. I had forgotten how when the sails fill so do your spirits. My crew and I have seen some rough times. However every time the winds are good, we always forget all those bad times. Maybe that is the condition of the human spirit for otherwise how would we ever face the next day.

Heard some strange noises over the waves. The crew suspected sirens, but looking through the spyglass it was just a particularly large and injured pelican. Nevertheless, we turned to satisfy the more superstitious of the men.

Thought we spotted land, and sailed towards it with all haste. Turns out it was just more water. Oh well.

Should never have invited that [cleric] on board. The madman stood a’deck during the storm as we rounded the [name] Peninsula. I don’t know what was more erect, him or the mainmast. Took four men to drag him to said mainmast and lash him to it. If we lost the ship’s [cleric] we’d be just as *fucked as if we lost the main mast. And at least if we lost the main, I’d die grinning knowing that fool went with it.

[name] is promoted to ship’s cook. Due to an unexpected change in crew hierarchy, meat is back on the menu for the immediate future.

The rats are back.

I could have sworn I saw a red-headed woman in the water last night. Called the cabin boy to confirm but then she was gone.

A raven landed on the deck. We’re miles from dry land. It watches me carefully every time I go on deck.

A dove just landed on the deck. Cook gave it a sprig of basil he was about to mince and it flew away.

Raven is still here even though we chase it off.

We’ve sighted land!

Rain. Slipped on the deck and almost spilled overboard. The rail my fate depended on, came loose as I grasped it. Told ship’s carpenter to make it a priority.

Overcast. Two crewmen nearly came to blows over a missing marlinspike. After a search, it was assumed the item fell overboard.

Fair seas. Minor accident aboard ship. [name] broke his nose, and needed to have it set. While descending the aft stair, one tread came free, sending the unfortunate man tumbling. It appears to have been secured with only one nail. I instructed ship’s carpenter to repair it.


Choppy seas. Not two days past [name]’s accident, another near miss. A plank came off the crows nest and almost cuffed the midshipman below. Midshipman tells me that there have been many more minor accidents aboard ship recently, suspects curse. I instructed ship’s carpenter to repair the crows nest, but I’m beginning to doubt the quality of his work.


Squall. Sails reefed as we wait. Ship’s carpenter tells me he was taking stock and someone’s been at his supplies. As he has the only key, I suspect incompetence is more likely. Should look in to hiring a replacement at next port.


Fair seas. The “curse” mystery is solved. [name] was caught with an exotic pet aboard ship; a small reddish insect he’s been keeping in a wooden cage. No larger than a fist, this beastie has an insatiable appetite for metals, which the ensign has been meeting by prying loose ship’s nails and pilfering unattended tools. Ensign [name] apparently has some skill with locks, and once he ran out of easy targets on deck, started helping himself to the carpenter’s supply. My poor ship is apparently currently held together with 3 nails, spit, and good wishes. I have instructed the crew not to clean too heavily, lest they disturb the grime holding us together. The ensign is confined below decks until I decide what to do with him, and the beastie is in my quarters. If we sink, at least they die first.


Fair seas. The ship creaks too much for my liking. Praying we don’t hit any bad weather.


Overcast. Adjusting course to avoid the weather. I will admit, this beastie is growing on me. It ate my letter opener when I wasn’t looking though, the little scamp.


Fair seas. Our luck holds. Ensign Friesen is now assigned as assistant to the ship’s carpenter. His duties will consist of counting every missing nail aboard ship. Daily. Whittling pegs for temporary replacements where possible. And carrying all items, and any personnel who ask, up and down the aft stair until we reach port. The beastie is forfeited and will be sold at port to recoup the cost of repairs. In the meantime, I have named him Rusty. He ate one of my buckles this morning.

Took on supplies at [island], 2 crates of crossbow bolts and one passenger, a young woman. The passenger boarded as we were completing the load of provisions and offered us a large sum of gold for passage — but only if we left immediately and traveled as swiftly as the wind would take us. We obliged.

Discovered we only have half the ink I ordered. Extra journal is also missing. I’ll have to be judicious in my writing.

[name] found carpenter’s mate, [name], in forecastle with a stolen bottle of whiskey from private store. Delivered 20 lashes and reduced crew to half rations for 2 days.

The expedition wasn’t meant to take this long. The crew is getting antsy and I can’t blame them. We’re supposed to be back in time for the winter solstice so the crew could take leave and visit family before departing again. I fear the majority of the crew will not be renewing their contracts, and without a crew the future of this vessel is unclear to say the least.

The leadsman pulled up a ribcage with the sounding line. Nothing else was attached, but the man swore it was human. Put the whole crew on edge. Gave the crew extra rum rations to calm them down. Will just dock their pay once we get to port. Cargo: 16 crates of wolf pelts, 5 barrels of wine, 1 crate of oranges.

Ran foul of a squall last night; thrown terribly off course. In the bays now, off the reef, and pushing for the own water. Have to navigate through sea-folk territory first, at least run it before they can crack the hull. Weather has cleared, waiting for a breeze.


Breeze finally picked up yesterday, but barely managed to skate the coral city. We saw them down there, spearing the hull and riding beasts of the deep; luckily none boarded. Minor damage to hull, repaired with stocked timber and tar; needs addressing at port. Breeze helpful but faint; praying for a gale.


Caught a gale, that’s for damned sure. Rode free of the bays and crossed near a span on the map, which is more than we’d hoped for. But, now the air is dead and we’ve been stopped in open water for a day. Winds won’t make up their damned minds it seems.


Winds made up their minds; decided not to do a damned thing. We’ve been sat here for days now and the crew grows restless. Tried sounding bottom, near a hundred fathoms. Might try having some boys go down with a bell and some asteria to search the bottom. Officer Fellend can swim like a fish, and breathe down there. Might send Lukas and Fvelt. Sky clear, no birds.


Boys dove this morning: sandy bottom so far, but planks here and there. Possibilities. Some clouds, glad for the shade. Still no wind.


Bell came loose on the dive today, Lukas missing. Fellend came up and got a barrel for Fvelt, filled part with solid shot in either end and a stone lashed to the bottom, dropped stone to let Lukas breathe on the up. Bad case of the bends, but he’ll live. Went right to quarters; sleep will do him good.


Lukas: dead. Fvelt: presumed dead. Officer Strouthamd found Lukas dead in quarters this morning; red blotches all over his torso, left leg swollen like a balloon. Lukas to be buried at sea; but not here. Crew beset with melancholy. Morale badly wanting. Still no wind. Water is oddly still.


Rations running low, crew made nets and brought in decent haul of fish. Needed to break into cargo, salt; shall have to repay Ebarkson upon return. Better alive and in debt.


Crew finally to dive again. Fellend to take Marshal and Neidman. Re-situating bell first, trying to arrange for pump, not much to work with. Current from east, no wind; little movement, perhaps a quarter mile. Made bell difficult.

There was a heated argument amongst the crew. One of the men angrily jumped overboard. I had the ship turned to pick him up, but he couldn’t be found and I have to assume he’s dead.

Sighted smoke off the port bow, but it appeared to outdistance us and was gone by mid-sun.

Manatees were observed in our wake. Quartermaster Jacques suggested harpooning to increase food supply, was rejected.


Jacques has shot an albatross. Surely we will be unlucky now.

Locals accused us of breaking quarantine. Apparently our [god] sun flag is the same color as their yellow quarantine flag.


Entire ship’s company is ill. What is this disease? We were told we were the ones suspected of bringing it — nonsense, there was no plague aboard ship before we made port here.


Ship’s doctor is dead, they won’t let us transfer the bodies off the ship, they’re beginning to smell.


The plague has run it’s course. New crew taken on, all half-orcs. It’ll take a year to get them in trim.

Decided to raid the weakling human commerce between [town] and [town]. Should be plenty of profit in it, lots of sparklies that we can sell for a good price. Why no pirates around here before?

[name] was right, no preservative spices means dump the bodies overboard after the first day. I may make him chef.

Some of the crew suspects we have a *stowaway hiding in the ship because more rations have gone missing over the last few days. She is hiding in my bed.


I warned them all that her presence on board would be an issue. A highborn woman of her repute has no business on this kind of ship. What worries is me is how friendly she is with the crew.


A couple crew members have gone and disappeared. A few others seem to lose focus quite readily. I’ve asked the cook to start checking our rations for poisons or fungus.


That woman could charm the skin off a goat. She keeps talking what’s left of the crew out of their tasks, and leading them around like lovesick puppy dogs. They won’t listen to me anymore! I fear the worst is about to happen. I’ve locked myself in my chambers hoping to wait this out.


She’s at the door. I’ve barricaded it with what I could, but I can still hear her nails grinding at the outside of the door as she digs her way in. She occasionally calls out to me in that accursed singing tone of hers. I have a crossbow with me, along with with enough bolts for a single shot.

Winds SSW at 8, light rain and thin fog.


Winds SW at 10, clear and cold. [name] corrected carpenter’s mate for excess rum ration and carpenter’s mate [name] put on restriction from daily rum.


Winds S at 6, freshened to 8 at sixth bell. Carpenter’s mate found hanged in his room. Chief Carpenter says he saw him to bed at 9th bell last night.


Winds WSW at 12, rain and squalls. The cat was found in the rum locker this morning, heavily drunk.

In an attempt to improve moral and courage I’ve acquired a number of matching red uniforms for the crew at considerable personal cost. I believe this should improve our cohesiveness and teamwork.


It turns out giving your crew brightly colored uniforms turns them into specular targets for opposing ships. Thankfully, I’m left with a skeleton crew which believed the uniforms too flamboyant and refused to wear them. We’ve agreed never to speak of the red shirts again.

Stopped in town for supplies and heard locals talking about a ghostly woman slaughtering sailors in the nearby bay. HA! No damn witch can sink this vessel.


Not much sleep last night, could’ve sworn one of the crew was singing all night, although, I can’t imagine one of these rough necks producing such harmonic tones. Must be my imagination.


That dammed singing won’t stop and now it’s even louder! I went down below to confront the crew and found only 2 of the 5 members, seemingly in a state of shock. I didn’t even notice all the blood at first. The singing is back and now seems to be top deck. The crew go from blank stares to expressions of terror upon hearing the song. I rushed top side, sword drawn, only to find the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, singing the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. Had she not been drenched in the blood of my crew, she may of even tricked the Ole Cap’n. Cut the witches head off with one swing. I’ll recruit new members in the morning.

Ship’s cat gave birth to kittens today. I’ve persuaded the cook to give me the orange one. I have named it Biscuit.

That bloody squeak is back.

Some members of my crew are already homesick. Knew I shouldn’t have brought the new meat on this journey.

Cook is upset about something, meals have been rather bland lately. Will need to send [name] to talk with him, can’t wait to have something other than hardtack and dried fish.

Absolutely nothing new to report. It’s a nice day.

(In a different handwriting) Steve Was Here.

[name] called the watch change as normal this morning. No unusual reports. Gathering clouds off port side aft, but the winds are favorable, and gods willing, we should be past any squalls today or tomorrow. One of the deck-boys has an odd fever. I don’t like it, and have tasked [doctor] with keeping the rest of the crew away from the lad until he recovers. Stores and provisions are holding up well. One small barrel of meal was bad when we opened it. I instructed the Qmaster to note it, and we’ll settle up when we return to port. This is the third time from this supplier, and we’ll need to locate another as a replacement.

We have been adrift for 2 weeks now. There has been no wind. And our sea mage says something is wrong with the magic. So he is unable to summon the winds. The crew is starting to get surly and scared. Food is running a little low, may have to start rationing…

We’ve seen a [monster]. It followed our ship for a while and we were afraid it would attack us but after a while it just disappeared.

Chief [name] tells me a cylinder bearing is getting worn. It’s not critical yet, but we’ll put in at the archipelago to replace it so it stays that way. On the bright side, we can top off our supplies of rum and fresh food.

Gods seemed angry today, tossed a couple of days provisions overboard to calm’em. Need to make port soon.

Feel like I’m seeing things. Eyes in the water, melody of beautiful tones. I think the crew hears it to. We are just east/west/south/north of [town]. I hope I hear them again tonight. Maybe I’ll go take a peak at them eyes.

Cookie found the citrus went bad. Some of the cargo came undone and wreaked all kinds of hell below deck during the storm. We’ll need to port soon to restock before scurvy hits. Otherwise, damage was minimal. Toe pain is back.

Nothing out of the ordinary today except the engine pressure chamber cracked again. Poor [name] lost half face, as he was standing right next to it when happened. We had to stop and wait an hour for it to cool down and patch up the leak. That pressure chamber resembles more and more of a beggar’s cloak than equipment. It should be replaced at the next port with proper ship yard. With all the stalling we lost one day.

The weather was amazing all day today. Clear skies and following winds. Unfortunately, looks to be a storm on the horizon though. [name] thinks we may be in for a rough night.

[name] seems to be healing up nicely, though the healer is unsure if he’ll ever see out of that eye again. Poor bastard has taken to calling himself “[name] Two-tone”. He’s handling it well, all things considered.

We had a mad storm today. I’ve never seen waves that high in my life, thought the sea might take us. Some of the lads are a bit shaken up, especially the greenies, but they’ll be better off for it in the long run… It builds character.


Had another storm today, about as bad as the last one. Crew handled it much better, I wasn’t worried for a second. Gods am I ready to make port.

This morning our lookouts spotted a young boy straddling a fractured section from another ship in the waters of the [sea], deciding it would be our good deed for the day we fished him out of the water and gave him refuge aboard our vessel. The boy had a few scratches but otherwise didn’t appear to be too worse for wear. After a bit of a chat with the lad and giving him some food and dry clothes, he told us about his ship being attacked by some kind of sea creature — large thing with an armored body and a devastating jaw. He also said something about the ship he was on having some kind of map to a treasure somewhere on the southern island of [island]… Perhaps it would be worth seeking that treasure out. For now, we’ll head back to port at [town] and get the boy onto dry land.

The fleet is destroyed. I managed to recover some of the log books that were floating in the water. They were quickly disintegrating but I was able to recopy the records in my own hand with whatever supplies I could find. I’ve given up trying to sort them. For now I’ll leave them here in this logbook. The volcano is smoking again, much more than before. God I hate this town.