Writing what is hopefully going to be a psychological horror, in the form of a Ship's Log:Ghost Ship
Shipís Log HMS Victoria 1797, 128 Souls On Board.
3rd July 1797
Left for New York along with five frigates, ten transports, and one ship of the line transporting 31st Regiment Of Foot, the 91st Highlanders, and attached Artillery units.
7th July 1797
Sighted enemy frigate heading east south east at three bells. Frigates Blonde and Surprise gave chase, but returned before dark.
13th August 1797
Lost sight of convoy in heavy fog. Proceeding at heading West North West in an attempt to regain sight of the convoy.
15th August 1797
Still no sight of convoy. Heading straight west to reach New York, with a view to rendezvousing with the convoy there.
18th August 1797
One soul lost overboard. Petty Officer Harris lost at sea. Large Storm sighted on the horizon.
24th August 1797
One hundred and twenty six souls lost. Heavy damage has been done to the main mast and we have lost the top sails. Have cleared the corpses from the main deck. Attempting to bury all of the men at sea, but there are too many bodies. Heavy damage has been done to the equipment, including the barometer and compass. Will attempt to navigate to New York via the sun and stars.
Found the logbook amongst the wreckage of the great cabin. Will try to get some rest, have bound the shipís wheel and she will hopefully sail true until morning. Luckily the main sail is still intact, so we are sailing well, albeit slowly.
25th August 1797
Checked the hull for any leaks, but all damage appears to be above the waterline. Below decks is carnage with corpses littering the decking, smashed beyond recognition when gun 2 of the larboard battery came free. The sun rose behind us, so I assume we are still sailing true.
I checked the food stores, but there is enough to last me to New York. My greatest fear is that the ship hits some obstacle. Hopefully we will sight the convoy soon.
27th August 1797
I believe the wind blew us off course during the night, as the sun rose off the starboard side. I corrected our heading, but have no honest clue where we currently are. Today carried on much the same as yesterday.
1st September 1797
Have found the log book again. Not sure how I lost it, but it turned up in the store room. I have managed to bury more than twenty of the men, but dragging the corpses up the steep stairway is a most gruelling and difficult task. I have piled the remains of the men to the stern, furthest away from my cabin.
I could swear that at night the dead talk to one another in hushed tones. I tell myself itís just the wind, but a part of me is insistent that my crewmates converse in the darkness. Sometimes I even wish this is so, and that I can leave my cabin and join the conversation, and laugh and drink with my friends as before.
I hope to God that another ship comes and rescues me. I set a signal requesting aid, so hopefully any that pass know to come and help me.
3rd September 1797
Again the ship went off course during the night. Iíve lost all hope of reaching New York. The best chance now is that we can just reach shore and find someone. I donít even care if theyíre enemy and I spend the rest of my life in prison, anything will be better than sailing around in this morgue.
I havenít slept properly in days, the wind still howls and makes the dead whisper, and I cannot find anywhere on the ship where I can just sleep.
The corpses are also starting to smell. I opened all the gun ports to try and air out the decks, but if thereís another storm weíll go down.
8th September 1797
Each day continues as every other day. No sight of land or another ship. Each morning now I must correct the course of the ship. God only knows where we are heading now. All I have for company are the rats and the dead. Iím determined to survive this ordeal, although Iím beginning to doubt whether or not I shall.
I havenít slept in days. Every night I lie awake listening to the whisperings of the dead. Even when thereís no wind I hear them, so it must be the crew talking to one another. I wish it was not so, but it seems the only explanation. At least they are quiet during the day. I tried to bury some more, but the stench was so vile that I couldnít get close before retching and vomiting.
I spend my days clearing up the mess and staring at what charts remain intact Ė but how do you know where you are when all that is around you is water? The endless sea, crashing waves. I sometimes throw empty barrels over the side and shoot muskets at them, anything to relieve the boredom.
Iím tempted to light a fire in the galley, to send a great smoke signal to make it more likely that we shall be found, but it also runs of the risk of setting the ship alight, and burning seems the most painful way to die.
12th September 1797
The strangest thing happened today. I could have sworn I heard someone below decks, someone talking. Not in the hushed tones of the night, which I am beginning to doubt is really the whispering corpses, but a quit distinct sound of a man barking an order, but when I investigated I found no one. I spent the afternoon searching the whole ship, but the only beings aboard apart from myself are the crew down below. The strangest thing.