Captain’s Log Day 49


Everything is quiet. I haven’t heard anything since late last night and no one has come down for me. I can only hope for the best but I am fearing the worst. Maybe this still will make us both feel better.


There’s something soothing about a home in ruins.


Shipwright Elias


Captain’s Log Day 48


The ship is in chaos. Apparently I don’t say that enough these days. Laroque released Davenport before I could. The two of them managed to inspire some semblance of unity in the men not totally taken by Cisco and Corbett. They’ve been battling against Corbett’s men–along with Cisco, Rowles, and the other few men following the supposed captain willingly–since late last night.

Me? I’ve been locked in the hold. With this log, yes. Laroque did it. That brat. Apparently he thinks that at least someone should survive here and that I’m safest in this prison. Why I should survive is beyond me. Maybe because I’m the only one that can repair the ship? And the only one with some knowledge of medicine and healing? And he gave me the log so the story can be told, I guess. I’m a bit concerned as to why he thinks that no one but me will survive. Which makes me wonder how I’m supposed to survive if no one lives to release me.

The sounds of battle are constant though at this point they’ve died down quite a bit. Someone is losing.

I wonder about the Smoky Dragon. How close is it? Will it sink? Maybe it has already.

Evidently there is no treasure for you today. None of the captain’s poems either. But, hey, look, I found this collection of stills down here. So I’ll include one here.

0629131154 (2)

It can perhaps be used as a representation of how I’m feeling right now.

Also, guess I’ll add a new tab to the log for these stills. Hopefully it will matter some in the future.


Shipwright Elias

Captain’s Log Day 47


This is a TAKEOVER. There is no way I’m going to allow this to happen so long as I’m alive. Cisco never left Corbett. The intent was to take us over all along so Corbett can be captain of the Leviathan and so he can be responsible for these treasures. Well, I won’t let it happen! And I have a feeling most of these men won’t go down without a fight! For now, Corbett and Cisco are in a meeting in the conference room. Tonight, we fight back. Wish us luck.


First Mate Future Captain Laroque

Captain’s Log Day 46


Cisco returned in the night. He brought quite a few of Corbett’s men with him. They held us up at swordpoint. I’m risking my neck right now just to tell you this. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m afraid. This definitely wasn’t an on the fly mutiny and takeover. I think this was Cisco’s plan all along.

No one is allowed to leave the ship–unless they’re Corbett’s man–so no one retrieved a treasure today. I fear what is coming tomorrow. I think Corbett himself will come over. And Davenport . . . I might have to do what I can to get him out of here in the life boat and hope he can get away. He killed Corbett’s brother, after all. If Corbett does come, I can guarantee Davenport won’t live. As for me, I’d love to go with him but I have to stay here. I don’t trust these people with my–er, the sunken city.


Shipwright Elias

Captain’s Log Day 45


Well . . . things were running smoothly . . . uh, sorta. As smoothly as they can when your ship has been taken over by the former second mate and then he goes MIA leaving a boy no older than 12 or 15 in charge. Now that Rowles has returned, Laroque feels challenged and, well, all Hell broke loose, putting it lightly. The ship is in chaos and the crew quite divided. Neither Laroque or Rowles wanted to leave in pursuit of another treasure for fear that their slim control would be broken–you know each is in charge of one half of the crew, right? It’s almost an all out war. If Cisco doesn’t come back tonight, I’m going to release Davenport. No one can inspire unity in such a thoroughly loathsome group of men as he.

I apologize for the lack of a treasure today . . . . I wanted to stick around in case blood was spilled. With Whitefield gone, I’m the only one onboard the ship that has any knowledge of healing.


Shipwright Elias

Captain’s Log Day 44


What is this? Cisco picks me to be his first mate and then doesn’t trust me? I’ll have you know he had no business sending Rowles back here to tell me how to do my job! I couldn’t be more angry. And before you ask, I did go to the sunken city today to retrieve the rest of yesterday’s treasure, The Wise Ones, but not because Rowles told me to–because I felt bad for tearing it into two pieces. I just had to reunite the two halves, that’s all. I am not doing a thing more that Rowles tells me to do. In fact, he should do exactly as I say! And I think I’ll tell him that too!

So here is the rest of that treasure, or part two–whatever.

“I would assume the Landing is in his will.”

“No!” my cousin protested again. “You can’t will that! The Landing can’t be willed!”

Several people turned to stare at her and her companion elbowed her in the ribs. So much for being subtle.

“Right, sorry.”

“Well?” she pressed, voice dropping.

“He didn’t say. And it won’t be in the will if it can’t be willed.”

“Then why am I even here?” she asked. “If not for the Landing, there’s no reason to be here—no reason to pretend I cared about him.”

“I don’t quite think anyone cared about him.”

She shrugged, a silent agreement. “But the Landing,” she began again, “the Landing is passed to a direct blood relation.”

I shrugged too. I knew that. “But he had no children.”

She frowned. “Then who gets the Landing?”

“As if I know.”

“You were the closest thing to him.”

“Considering none of you made the effort.”

She opened her mouth to respond but I kept talking.

“And now all of you are after the same thing. The will or the Landing.”

“If I may,” the boyfriend said, leaning forward again. “You just said that you didn’t care about him either so why would you care if we cared?”

I avoided his gaze. Perhaps I cared about the deceased more than I liked to admit. I said nothing to that.

“Hey,” my uncle’s voice said again.

I held up a finger to my cousin, the classic sign that meant just a minute, to turn and speak to my uncle again.

“See that?” he asked once I was facing him.


He frowned and pointed to the front of the congregation. I peered around him. Beyond the raised platform, the coffin had been lowered into a hole in the ground. The head stone was small, unassuming, and unimpressive. A few men with shovels moved to heap fresh dirt onto the box. The funeral was almost over.

“The will,” my uncle said then, drawing my gaze back to him.

I was curious then. My cousin wanted the Landing. But what could be in the will that my uncle was so desperate to get? “What is it you want?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean, why are you so anxious to hear the will?”

He barked a laugh. “Are you crazy?” he asked. “Or stupid?”

“Probably both,” his wife replied as she turned around.

I didn’t respond.

“Don’t you know that he was loaded?” my uncle asked.

I nodded slowly and gave him a dismissive wave. My uncle and his wife turned back around. I stared at the back of his head for a moment, wondering which wires were crossed in his brain. All these people want are money and the Spiritual Landing of the Wise Ones. I watched as the gravediggers heaped more dirt into the hole. While they had all been members of his family—and mine—none of them were Wise Ones. Except me. Of course I had inherited the Landing. I could feel it even then, pressing against the edge of my consciousness as the spirits of the graveyard tried to break into our world.

Guarding the Landing would be a hard job. No wonder he died. Though, I was certain that the pressure of the Landing hadn’t been what had killed him. No. He would have died much sooner if it had.

To be wealthy and to guard the Landing. These people I called my family were anything but wise.

As the last shovel full of dirt was piled onto the fresh grave, I stood and began working my way to the end of the row. No one else moved, except maybe my cousin as she called after me, as I stepped into the aisle. I turned my back on the grave, a single tear sliding down my cheek. Rest well. I moved down the aisle of crisp white chairs, somehow out of place in the dreary graveyard. I would guard the Landing with my life. I wondered then if the spirits of Wise Ones, like him, ever approached the Landing. Maybe I’d get to see him again.

But then, most likely not. The spirits he had kept from our world all these years were bound to devour his spirit in anger or for revenge. His spirit would crumble to dust just like his bones would when freed from his decaying flesh. I paused at the end of the last row, next to an older woman that I was almost certain had to be my grandmother. I glanced over my shoulder, the small grave appearing to be only a loose pebble lost among the green grass. You won’t be forgotten.

You know, now that I’m first mate, this ship needs a cabin boy. And I have just the man for the position. Oh, Rowles!


First Mate Future Captain Laroque

Captain’s Log Day 43

Hello there,

I sent that boy Laroque on an expedition to the sunken city. While he is the new first mate, he didn’t argue with me as I am acting on Captain Cisco’s behalf. Plus, he knows I’m a much bigger and stronger man than he. Anyway, the new captain is caught up in a bit of old business with his former captain Corbett. It’s nothing more than that, he assures me. Just a small disagreement that should be sorted out quite soon. Until then, I’m in charge. Also, I don’t trust that Elias. I’d throw him in the hold if I thought it would do us any good. Besides, I believe Cisco expressly told me not to ruin his shipwright. I won’t be allowing Elias to be touching this log again though, so far as I have something to say about it. I also am not allowing him to leave the ship again. He seems a bit more passionate about the sunken city than Laroque, who only went this morning with great reluctance, but I can’t send a flight risk in all good conscious.

Flight risk? Hmm, I wonder about that. I don’t peg Elias as the type of man that would flee and leave others to deal with “problems” all on their own. That is to say that he thinks Cisco and I are problems but, clearly, Cisco is a much better captain than Davenport ever could be.

Anyway, here is your treasure.

A man spoke at the front of the crowd. His voice was quiet and refused to carry more than two feet away from him. The words didn’t matter anyway. A few devout people strained as they tried to hear him. They would never hear the words over the conversations of their neighbors.

People all around the gathered congregation carried out their own private conversations. It was as though the mourners were divided into their own pockets of society.

Death is supposed to bring people together. I shook my head at the notion as I listened to the cousin I had barely met ramble on about unimportant particulars in the row just behind me. It wasn’t as though she knew the deceased any better than anyone else. I scowled.

A man in front of me turned around. I recognized him as an uncle on the other side of my family as the cousin behind me, though I couldn’t remember his name. I knew him about as well as I knew my cousin—or anyone else that was present for that matter.

“Hey,” he said, voice coming out in a raspy whisper.

“What do you want?”

“When do you think we’ll get to the will?” he asked.

I frowned. Is that the only reason why so many of these has-beens even bothered to show up? “They haven’t even buried the body.”

My uncle scowled. “You have to do that first?” he demanded. “What has this world come to? Back when my father died, the undertaker sent a post card to all members of the family, you know to let them know if they were in the will? Well, if we weren’t in the will, we didn’t bother to show up.”

I didn’t have to ask to know that he hadn’t been in his father’s will.

It was then that this uncle’s wife turned around. She was, of course, my aunt. I found myself wondering which one of the two I was actually related to. Perhaps it was neither. At least, they didn’t resemble other members of my family in the least bit. I frowned again.

“Oh come on, honey,” she told her husband. “He’s mourning, don’t be so blunt.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it mourning.” I shrugged.

“Oh so you came for the will as well, dear?” the wife asked.

“I’m not shallow.”

My uncle frowned and snorted. “I see why they keep your kind separate,” he remarked before turning back around with a huff.

His wife batted her eye lashes at me almost apologetically before turning back to the front.

I sighed and turned my gaze back to the minister addressing the crowd. If anyone hadn’t known the deceased well, the minister hadn’t known him at all. So what gives you the right to speak at his funeral? He hadn’t even been a pious man. The thought of being buried with a church sermon would have made him laugh. I smirked at that. Laugh indeed. Maybe he is.

My shoulder was tapped on then and I turned around, jumping back instantly when my nose ended up being less than three inches from my noisy cousin’s.

“What’d he say?” she asked.

“Wanted to know when we can get to the will.”

“No, no,” she said. “Not your uncle. I mean . . . .” her voice trailed off.

I glanced over my shoulder to the coffin that had recently had the lid closed. The minister was no longer speaking either. Perhaps they were getting ready for the burial. I turned back to my cousin.

“Didn’t say anything about you.”

“Not about me!” She threw her hands into the air and shook her head.

The boy next to her leaned forward so that I could feel his breath against my cheek as he spoke. “About the Landing,” he whispered, eyes darting side to side to make sure no one heard him, before drawing back. He was a face that I didn’t even recognize. Perhaps he was my cousin’s boyfriend.

Laroque tells me that he had to leave the other half of this treasure behind. I told him that he shall fetch that half tomorrow then.


Lookout Rowles