The Dutch Ship

It is a Dutch ship. Quiet, no lights burning in its ports, no soldiers standing watch on deck. It appeared on the horizon at midnight, a spectre floating towards our ship on the tides, as though by the moon’s will. The captain called us-- myself and first mate Thomas-- to the bow in the early morning hours, long before the sun’s rays could breach the sky. He stood still, seeming not to move even with the bobbing of the ship in the waves, staring through his sea-worn looking-glass at the inky form of the ghostly vessel.

He spoke, as he often did, without looking at us. Thomas, he said, your opinion, if you would.

Thomas stepped away from me and to the captain’s side. Dutch, I’m told. The crew claims they’ve seen no men on deck and no lights below. It’s an abandoned ship, ripe for the taking.

The captain hummed, and remained unmoving for a long pause of time. At last he spoke, Ready the men, and arm them. We take the ship at dawn. Thomas gave a short nod and quickly strode off to awaken the crew.

Simond, the captain said once Thomas had left, Do you know what makes a crew abandon a ship?

Sea madness, I replied, Or perhaps a problem with the ship. Though I doubt it is the latter.

He turned ever so slightly, giving sight to the gray fullness of his beard. And why is that? he asked.

It has yet to sink, but the flames in its lamps burn low. Hence sea madness, perhaps the victims of a becalming.

There is nothing calm about that ship. He muttered, as though to himself. I stared at the subject of our discussion, so quiet in the pre-morning light.

I’m afraid I don’t follow your meaning, I said. But he simply shook his head, and dismissed me to get ready.

I returned to the sleeping quarters, now full of the crew scrambling around and shouting at each other. I wove through the crowds of men and beds to my bunk in the corner of the room. I had been awake when the ship was first spotted, scribbling down my recollections of the last few days on the small scraps of paper that constitute my journal. In my haste to the deck I had shoved them into the sleeve of my shirt. In the short-lived chaos that ensued I had little time to place them back behind the post of my cot.

Yet still I had no chance to hide them when I returned, as William sat there, on my cot, examining the small blade I owned. He was fighting a sunburn, as he has been almost every day since we had been taken from our navy ship by Captain Guilleme. He looked up at me when I approached, looking every bit as though I had deeply inconvenienced him somehow.

Where were you? he asked, pointing the blade at me between two pale fingers.

On deck. I reached out and took the blade back from him, tucking it into my belt. Slacking off again, eh? And here I was so nice and came to get you so you wouldn’t sleep through the raid.

I wasn’t slacking off! I said, The captain asked for me.

Sure he did. And I just came back from breakfast with the king.

Why is it so hard for you to believe the captain would want to see me?

He paused for a moment, Well, I’ve seen you, can’t imagine anyone else wanting to! He guffawed, falling back and narrowly missing a concussion from the wall. I left him to his laughter, the sound of his boots on wood soon filtering through the noise of the waking ship.

The sun had risen in its full-faced glory. Thomas had returned to his post at the center of the deck and was going about managing the small details of the crew’s work through sharp barks of orders. His eyes shifted about, squinting at crewman after crewman. I am still of the opinion that were it not for his insistence on scowling at everyone he meets, he would be rather popular. He has a nice jaw, and his dark hair is well-kept, unlike the oily ponytail William has been letting grow. Perhaps if he grew a nice beard it might cover the harsh line of his mouth.

I am getting away from myself though. Returning to my account of our raiding the ship.

Thomas eventually settled on William and myself. He glared in that way that demands you approach him, and with a sigh to myself I acquiesced. William quickly followed after me. William, Thomas said before we got too close, fetch my longsword from my bunk.

Me? Why me? William asked. Thomas leveled him with a glare. I-I mean why not Simond, sir? He’s not doing anything currently. And I was hoping to get a look at the ship.

You’ll get a good enough look of the ship when we’re on it. Now go. Thomas said. William grumbled, but obeyed the order. Fucking annoyance. I agreed, of course.

Simond. Thomas said.

Yes.

The Captain, - And here he paused with clenched teeth - would like you to aid in searching the upper deck of the Dutch ship.

The upper deck? I asked, You mean the captain’s quarters and such?

Are you suddenly deaf? Yes. Apparently Captain Guilleme thinks you worthy of such light work.

I’m honored-

Save it. He interrupted. Just go get in the fucking rowboat. Since the captain trusts you so much, you can be the first aboard.

I- Alone!?

Of course not. Thomas grinned at me. You can take William.

ABOARD THE SHIP

William, as always, refused to row. He insists he’s navigating as though I would miss the only thing to look at other than our own fucking ship. By the time we reached the side of the ship the other rowboats had launched.

Up close the quiet of the ship was deafening. We too fell silent in its shadow. The waves lapped at my heels as I climbed aboard. My first step aboard stuck to the deck. The hair on the back of my neck rose, a metallic smell reached my nose. I glanced down, and at my feet was a slowly drying puddle of blood. My eyes tracked the blood to its source; the body of a large man laying strewn on the deck. His face was contorted into an eternal screech. The broken angles of his neck were obstructed by shreds of his flesh torn open. A seabird sat atop his head, ripping bits of flesh out from the rotting corpse, slowly exposing gleaming white bone.

It startled at me and flew away with a squawk. My heart thundered as I stood there, staring unblinking at the poor soul.

A scream rang out, shaking me from my stupor. I glanced back to see William, reeling backwards. That’s- that’s- he stuttered. He stepped away instinctually, right into the air. I lunged forward and grabbed his shirt, yanking him back onto the boat. The momentum was too great, and we fell back. William landed face first in the coagulated blood. It stuck to him as he pushed up, a great glob falling from his face. His eyes welled with tears, and for a second I was reminded of when we were children and he would cry at the smallest bruise. But my recollection was cut short by the present William getting sick all over the deck.

The rest of the boarding crew had reached us by then. Their reactions to our bird food friend were much of the same shock and horror (though William thankfully was the only one to vomit). By the time Thomas was climbing up word had spread down the line of what to expect. He entered the scene with a small scrunching of the nose. He gave the corpse a nudge with his boot and turned to me. Dead when you got here?

I mean, I hope so.

And the sick? I pointed to William, who had taken up station leaning over the railing of the ship. Thomas groaned in annoyance.

Alright. Let’s not sit around staring! He barked at the others, Find a sheet. I want him ready to be set to sea before the hour is up. Then he walked to where William was sitting and pushed him with his foot until he scrambled to get to work.

Some of the stronger crewmates-Martin and/or his brother Marlon among them, I believe- took over the burial while the rest of us spread out to search the deck for others like it. Below the crows nest we discovered a dried sprinkling of blood. The nest itself was splattered with blood, but I am told no bodies or bones were discovered.

Finding the rest of the upper deck empty, Thomas ordered us to get to work. With a glare he set himself to have a view of both the captain’s quarters and the entry to the lower decks. He stared at me for a moment, and I, being still a bit stunned, stared back. Well? he barked, Get to work!

I suddenly remembered the task that sent me ahead of the others. My mouth was not yet ready to speak though, and so I could only nod and walk swiftly through the door.

The room had been affected by some great tantrum of movement. Knick-knacks and papers were strewn about the floor. The Curtains were broken off their rod, blocking the light with an uneven swaying motion. I scanned for signs of blood or bodies, but found none, even when I had circled behind the desk. I did find several valuable items and important-looking correspondence on the desk, though the latter I doubt will be of much use, unless any of the crew suddenly speak Dutch. Or can read, for that matter. Lacking any horror to behold, I gathered the curtains on the floor and used them to collect the candleholders and wall decorations. On one shelf I even found an ornately decorated silver compass, quite the find though certainly one the captain will insist on selling or using himself. Most of the shelves were emptied, and the small pile of goods I scrounged up were disappointing in number.

There is one discovery which I find of interest, despite its lack of inherent value. In the side drawer of the desk I found two stacked journals. The lower journal was clearly older. Its papers had yellowed and curled, and it smelled of salt and tobacco. It was filled with long entries of Dutch writing preceded by numbers, perhaps dates. It seems the Captain of the Ship was of the habit of chronicling his journeys across the waters.

The higher journal, however, was relatively new. Its first date, if it uses the same dating system as I am used to, goes back two weeks. Only fourteen pages are used from the journal, the rest in good condition, the pages not yet warped by water and time. What a windfall! I am not a fool nor do I wish for the swift death of a thief. But I took it anyways. The beautiful binding of the spine, the soft leather of the cover, I dare say I’ve yet to see an item so beautiful in my life. I was weakened by its beauty. Besides, There is no one I know of on the ship who speaks Dutch. To my knowledge the only members of the crew with any ability to read or write are myself, Captain Guilleme, and William. Perhaps Thomas, though he has never shown any indication.

Still, I am hesitant to write in it with the first pages still inside. For now I have taken both journals tucked away under my cot. In the moment, I quickly gathered the most important documents from the floor and left the cabin. I was eager to get back onto our own ship and away from the malaise.

When I emerged from the office Thomas had left his post, though I heard the rumble of his voice from down below. I briefly considered going down to tell him I was done with the office, but as I thought of descending a chill ran up my spine. I turned to the deck, now empty save for a lookout. As soon as I turned from the stairs the chill left me. Now I only felt as though something was watching me. The feeling of eyes refused to leave, no matter the direction I faced. The fear grew too much, and I rushed through checking the upper hallway and scanning the deck for any goods left behind.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that I heard what the rest of the crew had seen. Below deck, I am told, there was a great deal of blood to be found. One more corpse was found on the stairs to the cargo hold, and the cargo hold itself, I am told, was a sight best unseen. Marlon told me, when we had returned to the ship, of the stench of iron that had risen two decks to reach them. How the splatter of blood reached the ceiling near the door. Viscera now stuck to the planks. Three more were found there, their skin taut over their bones as though mummified.

The cargo itself is in good shape I hear. Some miscellaneous textiles, rubber, and other goods you find on a trading ship. I have never actually asked. I probably won’t ever ask. There is one oddity, I am told, they found in there. An old coffin, from the time of knights and ladies, they say. It is adorned with silver lining the edges, handles, and hinges. Emblazoned in gold atop it are a sword and shield with a crown above them. Marlon claims there are real gems embedded in the crown and other decorations of the coffin. The value of these were too great to leave behind, but as they were too difficult to remove quickly, the coffin was taken across the water and now lays in our own cargo hold.

Half the crew, led by Thomas, have returned to the Dutch ship. The ship is in decent shape, and the captain intends to sail it to the nearest isle and sell the ship and most of the cargo for scrap. The coffin will be stripped for the precious metals and gems.

What will happen to the soul within after that, I do not know.

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