Captain Conrad spotted a strange object.
Shaped like a mushroom, it occupied a depression on the sea’s surface. Approaching dolphins changed directions.
Conrad gave his binoculars to his chief mate Joseph. “Do you see that?”
“See what?”
“That red dome.”
“Red dome?”
“Yes, chief parrot.”
Joseph grinned. “You can’t ruffle me.”
“I wish I could.”
“I know.”
The AB on watch duty, Matthew, came over. “Everything alright?”
A box of Grape-Nuts slid off the table. Conrad caught a falling compass. “Seen the dome before?”
“The dome?”
“That thing there.”
Matthew blinked.
“It’s probably manmade,” Joseph said. “Never seen anything like it.”
“Should we change course?” Conrad asked.
“Probably not.” Joseph scratched his head and smiled. “Of course, if we collide, I’ll say I was just following orders.”
“Sorry I partnered you with him,” Conrad told Matthew. “I’ll partner you with someone else on the return trip.”
Matthew raised his cup of coffee.
#
July 22
Latitude: 37°7’N. Longitude: 68°10’W. Course: 123. Distance made good since Port Klang: 500 nautical miles.
I went swimming today. A swimming pool on a ship — absurd, isn’t it? Like humanity can’t share a space with the deformities of the sea. Still, looking out my porthole, I wonder if it’s prudence, rather than pride, that drives us from dangerous waters.
At lunch I asked Joseph if he had more information about the dome. He dropped his glass of prune juice. I offered my chamomile tea, but he said I needed it more.
#
Two hundred metres away, the dome eclipsed the sun.
“Dead slow ahead!” Conrad ordered Matthew.
“Dead slow ahead.”
“We can manage,” said Joseph. “Go pester the third mate. Or sing sea shanties in your cabin.”
Joseph wanted privacy. The dome held a significance he couldn’t share with Conrad, even though — or perhaps because — they were friends. Conrad nodded and left.
Photos of the crew’s pets furnished the walls of the stairway. A heart-shaped frame held the chief engineer’s hedgehog. On the first floor, Joseph’s husky rested its forepaws on the wheel of a pilot boat.
Puddles covered the deck’s starboard. Crimson railings confronted the blue sea. As Conrad approached the bow, a smell of smoke intensified.
The dome dwarfed the foremast like a giant beach umbrella. Parallel lines slashed its cap, which discharged a purple fluid.
A button on Conrad’s radio warned the crew of pirates. He pressed it twice. Thirty seconds later, Joseph appeared at his side. “Where are they?”
Conrad faced the rising creature. Its stalk displayed two adjacent arrows that pointed downwards.
“Tell me what you see,” Joseph said.
“What I see?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Just tell me what you see.”
Joseph probably thought he hallucinated. “There’s some kind of mushroom-shaped creature in front of our ship,” Conrad said. “The same one we saw a few days ago.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
“What?” Conrad stared. “You didn’t?”
Joseph sighed and shook his head.
“But you said you could see it,” argued Conrad. “You said it was manmade.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want Matthew to think you were crazy.”
Conrad leaned on the windlass. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
Joseph stood at attention. “Yes,” he said. “I think you’re the craziest captain there is.”
He saluted. Conrad grinned.
The creature had frozen. At the base of its stalk, a marble-sized hole made a noise like a goldfish gulping air.
“What do you see?” asked Joseph.
“A giant mushroom with eyes and a mouth,” said Conrad. “There’s a lot of blood dripping from its head.”
“What do you think it wants?”
Something pecked Conrad’s nose. As he wiped it off, he felt two taps on his forehead. “Let’s go inside.”
They hurried to the stairway. Rain clattered the teal and white shipping containers. At the threshold, Conrad watched lightning stab the dome. Violet mucus collapsed in spirals. When the cap touched the water, a hiss increased in pitch until it became a squeal. Conrad turned and barrelled up the stairs.
#
August 1
Latitude: 40°5’N. Longitude: 66°11’W. Course: 123. Distance made good since Port Klang: 900 nautical miles.
I have no gills, just an aperture near my abdomen. To breathe, I escape the sea. The fisherman readies his rod. The higher I climb, the closer his hook.
One skipper sees. He and his partner dispute my presence, but they reach an agreement. I watch them smile at each other. Ship ropes split my world from theirs.
His instinct is to run, but he will leave his journal. Board a lifeboat bound for blood.
