Day Sixty-eight

Storms and a cauldron sea confront the Dromannion at the break of this sixty-eighth day. The Fleet is spread wide and a gale races from the east, sending waves crashing over the decks of our ship. Above, the crew work frantically to keep us afloat, and below decks we struggle to lash down everything that might become loose in the storm's frantic rip and tear. Above the crash of thunder, and the pounding exhalations of icy rain that hammers against every exposed surface, I can hear the rigging of the ship straining under the forces being exerted upon its ratlines and tethers. The hull groans with the pitch and yaw of the ship, and from below I can hear a gurgling rush as seawater collects in the ballast-wells below our quarters. In this storm the ship is fighting for its life, struggling against the tremendous forces that are attempting to splinter its wood and crush its spirit. As is my lot I cannot take part in the fight. The Healer and his assistants must wait below in the surgery as the injured are brought for treatment, and as we listen to the grinding assault above it is apparent that many will be visiting us this day.

By mid-morning I have seen eight injured men brought into the surgery. It is with sadness that I record that three have been swept overboard, and a further two have died beneath fallen masts and yards. The foremast has collapsed and now trails in the ocean to the Dromannion's port, skewing the ship in the water, dragging it portside and dangerously out of balance. From reports coming down to us as the injured are carried in there is a great battle going on to free the mast and loose its trailing rigging. There are fears that we might capsize it this cannot be done and I shudder at the thought of all the souls that will be lost if they are not successful.

Midday has seen three more seriously injured crewman brought in. The surgery is a melee of screaming sailors and the frantic efforts we are making to help them. As we work the decking beneath us shudders as if the Dromannion is dying, but it has not given up yet. The foremast has been freed and in revenge the storm lingers, tearing at the ship as we run before its power. I can feel now however, that it is starting to weaken. I cannot imagine the damage that has been caused to the rest of the Fleet. I fear for small ships such as the Equinox. It will be a miracle if any of them survive this tempest.

It is only now, in the early evening that I can finish my account of this day. The storm has dissipated and left in its place a mire of drizzle and heavy mists. We can make no tally of the damage to any other vessels but the Dromannion has been hit hard. We have lost our foremast and the top yard of the mizzen-mast. It is amongst ourselves however, that we have taken the most grievous losses. Twelve men have been injured and six have been lost to the sea. The passengers of this vessel are all safe and for that I am thankful. It would seem that we have survived the power of the sea once again.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms