Boom: A spar that attaches via a hinge or joint to the mast.
Bow: The front part of a vessel.
Companionway: The main entrance from the cockpit, to the cabin. This entrance is
normally able to be battened down, in a storm situation.
Conoco: Proper Noun, Masculine: From Conoco-Philips, an oil company on Earth.
Corpasheath: A sealable body-bag, which preserves the remains of the dead.
Cutter: A sailing vessel with two headsails.
Date Format: WE (Wednesday) 15 (15th) 02 (February) 09 (2209).
Degrees: The 360 degree points of a compass which are used to set courses.
Egon: On Sailors Paradise, this is the unit of atmospheric pressure.
Grog: From the ancient Royal Navy: a rum based alcohol.
Keel: The sailboat’s ballast, and what allows her to sail upwind.
Ketch: A two masted sailing vessel. The aft, known as a mizzen, is shorter.
Knot: On planet Earth, a nautical mile, or 1/60th of a degree of longitude.
Mizzen: See (KETCH)
Nimbia: The ocean covering 100 percent of Sailors Paradise
Noon Observation: A maritime tradition that once involved figuring out the ships
position relative to the altitude of the moon or sun to the horizon.
PFD: Personal Floatation Device.
Port: To the left of the bow.
Rudder: The steering mechanism on the aft, underside of a vessels belly.
Sailors Paradise: A planet two light years from Earth, covered by an ocean.
Spar: Any protrusion from the mast.
Starboard: To the right of the bow.
Stay Sail: One of two head sails on a cutter-rigged sailing vessel.
Stern: The aft section of a vessel.
Tack: A vessel’s tack is the direction from which the wind is blowing over the bow.
UNSUBR: Acronym for United Nations Sailing & Underwater Boaters Registry
Wheel: A mechanism for steering a sailing vessel.
Wind Direction: Example W25 = Wind from the West at 25 knots.
**
Sailors Paradise is a world unlike any other. I’s entire surface covered by a fast fresh water ocean known as Nimbia. The climate is very hot at her equator and temperate at best at her poles, and thus there has never been an iceberg reported on this planet. Her circumference is just over 30,000 miles, and her atmosphere gives her blue skies with puffy clouds and a steady breeze that average 35 knots. One unique feature found on this world is the fact that due to a rare gravitational and physiological anomaly, there are no real waves or swells on the surface of her oceans. Indeed any entity causing a ripple in Nimbia’s turquoise blue waters will do so only for an instant as the water very quickly returns to its flattened state. From the vacuum of space this world does indeed resemble a pale blue marble.
It is no wonder therefore that the Galactic Sailing Cup is held here every single year. More than one million yachts from around the known galaxy compete to beat old circumnavigation records and set new sailing speed records. The race is open to all designs and amplitudes and thanks largely to round the planet media coverage of the race, there has never been a fatality due to drowning. Every now and then, however, quite inexplicably, one hundred yachts vanish without a trace, there crews never to be seen again. No bodies are ever discovered, and no wreckage of their vessels is ever seen floating. Underwater scans from space detect no wreckage beneath the surface of Sailors Paradise either, and so there has always been some conspiracy theories that the sailors and their vessels have been transported off the planet without any ones knowledge mid-race and their insurance companies are left to pick up the tab.
It is now the 1st of April of 2209; it is one month after the Galactic Sailing Cup has ended. This year more than 1.5 million yachts competed and of those yachts only two were reported missing, one of them was the Uncle Tom, an Earth Yacht from Ireland. The other was the William Bligh, from Australia. The Uncle Tom, or UT, is a 43 foot long traditional cutter-rigged ketch. The UT has a beam of 12 feet and a draft of 7 feet. She has six crew members and a large black cat called Conoco (named after an oil company, back on Earth). Just today, an electronic logbook emerged floating on an unbroken sea, and the mere fact that any object was floating adrift from a missing vessel was just one surprise. The next was located upon examination of the Captain’s logbook, which turned out to be from the Uncle Tom. Inside its files were clues that perhaps spoke of the Uncle Tom’s final days, as well as clues as to what happened to the William Bligh. What follows is taken from the files in the electronic logbook:
**
WE 15.02.09 (Wednesday 15th of February, 2209): Today the skies turned clear after morning haze. Wind is from the west at 29 knots. 85 Degrees. The humidity is 49 percent and the pressure is stable at 100 Egons. The seas are calm, as they have been, and sunrise was at 06:25am local time.
Lt. Tawnybrook cooked the crew breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast. We washed it down with coffee and fresh water.
[1200]: We took role call and the crew members are accounted for, including Conoco when we found him. I don’t think we’ll do another roll-call, it seems counter-productive. In any event, it went as follows:
Brian Mayfield, Helmsman
Stewart O’Reilly, Cook;
Lt. John Tawnybrook, Security;
Robin Dutton, Engineer and Radio Operator;
Joan Amaretto, Sail Repair
Richard Jenkins (myself), Skipper.
Conoco, ship’s cat.
[1707] Tawnybrook is on watch tonight, he will be relieved at 0500 by Mayfield.
*
TH 16.02.09: Clear Skies, 85 Degrees, 49% Humidity, 100 Egons. The seas are calm, as they continue to be. Sunrise was at 06:24am local time.
[1200] Noon observations: We’re all rather bored. We have maintained our speed of 14 knots, traveling at 88 degrees east. O’Reilly made us fish and chips today, delightful, even though they had been dehydrated, they tasted like they were fresh from the market. The autopilot seems to be doing its job, and Mayfield reports no corrections to the sheets were needed. Dutton reports heavy traffic on the emergency frequencies in regards to racers 200 nautical miles to our south. Apparently, during last night’s action, twelve hundred yachts were involved in minor collisions and out of those 924 are dropping out of the race. So far, Uncle Tom’s position has been reported as 89th, not too bad. It looks like we might get some money out of the race sponsors after all!
[1907] Amaretto reports that our genoa needs to be repaired at once, as two seems from her leach have begun to tear. I’ve had the men unfurl the spare while they work on the sail. We have slowed to 10 knots, but should resume our speed tomorrow.
[2204] We were all on alert after a loud crack was heard some moments ago. Dutton reports no signs of damage, and we struck no other vessel. We are speculating that it could have been a third party disturbance, perhaps a sonic boom or something else.
**
UNSUBR’s has dossiers on all of the Uncle Tom’s crew: Her captain, Richard Jenkins was born in New York City, New York, USA on the 20th of July 2162. He graduated from the United StatesNavalAcademy in Annapolis, Maryland when he was 22, and entered 14 years of service in the U.S. Navy. The Security Officer, Lt. John Tawnybrook was from Oban, Scotland, born 14 May, 2176. Tawnybrook was a commander in the Royal Navy, based in the British Antarctic Territory. Brian Mayfield is from Trenton, New Jersey, USA, born 1 January 2190. Mayfield studied at Yale before dropping out and joining the crew of the Uncle Tom. Stewart O’Reilly, the oldest, was born in Sheffield, England 27 February 2149. O’Reilly was a veteran of the Bizon War, where he spent the duration as a cook aboard the troop transport HMS Arc Royale. Robin Dutton hailed from Kingston, Jamaica, born 25 December 2180. Dutton studied communications at Sandhurst, but dropped out before graduation. Joan Amaretto, another American, was born in San Pedro, California, USA on 14 May 2184. Joan’s father was in the merchant marine, and she grew up on container ships on Planet Earth. Conoco the cat, from records from the IPVA indicate that he was born 1 June 2201. Conoco’s breed was that of a bombay, born into the litter of a stray cat that was found by Captain Jenkins. All of the kittens except for Conoco died. Jenkins named the cat in honour of a long defunct oil company, and because his coat was as black as oil. Conoco traveled with Jenkins non-stop after the death of his siblings, and is now an active part of the crew of the Uncle Tom.
**
FR 17.02.09: Misty Before breakfast, 51% Humidity, 94 Egons The sea’s two inches (rippled). Sunrise was at 06:22.
[1200] Noon Observations: Earlier, I took my turn with the breakfast treat. I made porridge, sprinkled with cinnamon. After the morning duties were completed, the crew decided to take the spare genoa down and hoist the working one. The main, stay sail, and mizzen were all then inspected, and all seemed to be free of defects.
[1413] Dutton reports a suspected distress call over the radio. The message was garbled, but he swears he heard a “Bligh…(garbled) mayday, mayday, mayday. (more garbled and then clearly) William Bligh” Uncle Tom’s directional finder placed the signal at 16 degrees to port, so I have changed our course to 72 degrees ENE so that we can investigate.
[1455] The William Bligh’s “mayday” was never repeated, and we have no way of knowing how far away it was. I’ve decided to resume our course of 88 degrees unless we hear of an emergency.
[1701] Again all hands report hearing the cracking sound. Structural tests, again performed by Dutton, show no signs of damage to UT. There is also no mention of the phenomenon over the radio, but we couldn’t be imagining it. Even Conoco’s tail puffed out and he ran and hid down below at hearing the sound.
[2031] On watch tonight: O’Reilly until 0230, to be relieved by Dutton.
[2359] Magnetic Fog? Our compass is not responding to our turns. An inky fog has surrounded the UT, so we are relying on the infrared video feed, and radar in the cockpit to ensure we don’t collide with anybody.
SA 18.02.09: We are still in the midst of the magnetic fog, which has never been reported during a race before. We are unable to determine our course, and there is too much interference on the radio to communicate with any of the other racers.
[0930] Breakfast today was provided by Lt. Tawnybrook. Boiled eggs, toast cut into soldiers, and rehydrated milk. I’ll spare my comments from the logbook.
[1200] Noon Observations: Magnetic Fog continues, most of the crew are fatigued from boredom and they would like to get a move on. We have taken down our sails and are waiting the fog out.
[1340] The fog lifted half an hour ago. UT’s compass began working normal, and we have resumed speed. The wind that accompanied the clearing is an indication that we were in some kind of a high pressure bubble. I’ll check on this phenomenon at the conclusion of the race. UT’s course is set for 94 degrees, and we are making 17 knots, as the wind has increased to 34 knots, up from zero.
[1602] Conoco has fallen overboard without his PFD. His personal locator beacon worked as it was designed, letting off a loud screech, a bright strobe-beacon, and sending out a radio beacon for UT’s direction finder to find him with. Amaretto thought we should continue on without him, but this is my call, and we turned about and collected the very wet, and very upset cat. There is no indication of how he fell overboard, but it was probably simply a case of misadventure.
**
At this point, the logbook seems to have suffered some file corruption, as the next entry is dated three days later. Upon examination of records from UNSUBR, Captain Richard Apple Jenkins had never skipped a day of logging in all of his twenty-nine years sailing. It is to the conclusion of UNSUBR and other experts that part of the log files are missing.
(File Resumes and Continues From Monday 20 February 2209. Of not any known significance, the last entry from Saturday and the first entry found for Monday regard the Uncle Tom’s cat, Conoco.)
**
[1354] Conoco is missing.
[1702] Dinner will have to be suspended as I suspect our food supply has become contaminated. Mayfield felt sick yesterday, and today the entire crew, myself included are running fevers and have aching bodies. If this goes on for another forty-eight hours, I am going to make the decision to withdraw from the race and evacuate to an orbiting hospital.
[2205] On watch tonight: Myself. I will be relieved at 0500 by Amaretto, if she’s feeling up to it.
TU 21.02.09: Weather observations. Sunny. 105 F. Wind W20. Humidity is at 20%. The pressure is 80 Egons, rather low.
[1005] The cracking sound was heard again, this time the Uncle Tom shuddered, but there is no damage.
[1200] Noon Observation: We are sailing at 9 knots at 70 degrees running.
[1321] I’m going to call for an evacuation early. Tawnybrook is dead. There is no outward signs of trauma, it is apparent that he died from his illness. I have ordered Dutton to send out a “Mayday” immediately. O’Reilly and Mayfield sealed Tawnybrook’s body in a corpasheath and locked it away in the hold until we can get out of here.
**
It is clear from the audio portion of the electronic logbook that Dutton did in fact stick to protocol and send a Mayday. No record of this distress call exists, so UNSUBR believes the UT’s radio was not working properly.
**
[1700] There has been no communication to us via the radio or any other device we have onboard. It is possible the magnetic fog caused catastrophic damage to our systems. We will try and find another vessel and intercept it to get help.
[2105] More magnetic fog. It lasted from 2040 until 2055 and then lifted. When it rose, we sighted a red and white light in the distance. Based on the fact that the white light was to port of the red, the vessel was traveling in the opposite direction. We signaled to the vessel, but it did not stop or try and hail us over the radio, although I don’t believe it could have used the radio, even if it wanted to.
[2220] Another vessel’s lights were sited at 005.4 degrees, but we were unable to intercept. On watch tonight: Myself and Amaretto. I told her we’d drink the last bottle of Dewar’s, to which she seemed thankful. Our ailments have subsided, but I’ve decided because of the death of Tawnybrook, we must evacuate. I have told a couple of the crewmembers I’ve been having nightmares that involve Conoco. What the hell happened to that cat? If he’d fallen overboard his beacon would have gone off, but it didn’t. I’m going to search the boat for him tomorrow, top to bottom, maybe he’s sick too.
WE 21.02.09: [0107] A bloody rogue wave hit the UT just twenty minutes ago. We were hit on the port side, directly abeam. The vessel was knocked over completely and the water poured through the companionway.
[0345] We have pumped all of the water out of the cabin. There was minimal damage to the supplies, although everyone’s now awake and wet.
At 1255 a disturbance in Sailor Paradise’s hydrosphere was observed by several media outfits, however, no vessels were noted in the immediate vicinity. The log does seem to show that one vessel, the Uncle Tom, was in fact in the disturbance’s past.
[0840] Breakfast was cold corned beef and hash with wheat thin crackers and Guinness. The food was bloody awful but the Guinness did at least lift our spirits.
[1003] I searched the hold for Conoco, but no luck. There are some places I can’t fit into, that he might be hiding, but he’s not a fearful cat, and I think he would come if he heard me calling. I fear Conoco is dead, but can’t prove it until I see his four-legged corpse. I miss him. He’s been my companion on so many voyages. Sure the men and women I’ve sailed with have changed, and they all had interesting stories, and most of them were good company, but they didn’t hold a candle to Conoco. Conoco, where are you? I am going to officially report in this log that I cried my eyes out today, thinking I will never see that cat again. He’s really the only member of this crew that isn’t replaceable. You can never find a cat with the same personality as another, and Conoco and I have been through a hell of a lot. From one side of the galaxy to the other. Troop carriers, cargo junks, ferries, sailboats, space-tugs, and fighters, that cat was well-rounded to the realities of space. I don’t think I have the time, patients, or warmth in my heart to try with another one.
[1200] Noon Observation: Another vessel has been sited, approximately two miles to the south. We should intercept her within the hour, although she is not responding to her calls on the radio. I have even had Dutton try the old fashioned flag signals N-C (I am in Distress and Require Immediate Assistance) and S-O (Stop your Vessel Immediately), but to no avail. I think this other boat believes we are trying to our-race her and either doesn’t know the old flag system, or thinks it’s a trick. I will report them to racing officials if we can ascertain who they are.
[1330] We have closed in on the other vessel. It is the William Bligh, registered in Perth, Australia. We all waved our arms around wildly and I think they got the idea that we might want to talk and they slowed and began sailing just off our starboard quarter. Now I am sure our radios do not work, as they cannot communicate with us.
[1340] The William Bligh came to a full stop, as did we, and we have rafted our vessels together. The Bligh’s captain, William Stoker, has boarded the Uncle Tom, and we all plan to discuss the equipment failures, the rogue wave, and our evacuation.
**
An Audio log was then recorded of the meeting of the two crews. It is clear from this conference that the William Bligh had also experienced the Magnetic Fog, had no working radios, had lost three crew members to illness, and were in the process of completing the race. Apparently, the crew of the Bligh had not seen the Uncle Tom following due to the fact that they were short-handed. It is also apparent from the audio log that the captains of both vessels disagreed on a course of action. The Bligh decided to continue the race, whereas the Uncle Tom’s mission was to find another vessel to relay a distress call and to evacuate.
**
[1803] Captain Stoker is an idiot. He plans to finish the race and doesn’t plan to stop and ask for assistance from another vessel. I don’t believe they’ll make it.
[2005] Dinner consisted of boiled potatoes, cabbage, and honey-sweetened grog. Revolting.
[2207] Jenkins and Mayfield are scheduled for watch tonight, to be relieved at 0500 by myself, until 0800.
[2320] Lightning or aurora activity reported in the northern skies, very strange. There was also a humming reported by Jenkins and Mayfield. They found it so unnerving they woke me to ask me my opinion. I told them I didn’t have one, and returned to my sleep.
TH 22.02.09: 0850 Breakfast consisted of General Kellogg’s Corn Flakes, Dr. Pepper, sweetened with honey, and toast cut into soldiers. Not too bad.
[1040] Amaretto asked if she could write an entry into the log.
(From the Logbook of Joan Amaretto)
I, Joan Amaretto, am of sound mind, would like to place my thoughts into the official log of the sailboat Uncle Tom. This statement is being witnessed by Captain Jenkins.
It is my belief that we are off course, that the magnetic fog, or whatever the hell it was, has caused our compass to malfunction. I don’t believe anybody knows where we are, except that we are somewhere sailing on Nimbia. Captain Jenkins disagrees with me, saying that he knows our course and has calibrated our compass using the star charts and the stars in the heavens above us. I am not impressed by this fictional way of navigation, and want it on the record that I believe we are all going to die. The Captain has not allowed me to speak to the rest of the crew members about my feelings, but has agreed to put my feelings on the record, so here they are. I know that I’m not the only one who feels this way. I would also like to put here that I suspect Conoco and Tawnybrook were murdered, but by whom I have no idea.
[1041] I do disagree with Amaretto’s comments, although she is welcome to them. She isn’t the first member of one of my crews to crack up under stress. She’ll receive the proper mental-health treatment when we return to orbit.
[1200] Noon Observations: I can feel an underlying dissention in the air, regarding the crew. It’s possible she’s spoken to other crew members about our predicament. I think I will have to address everybody later on today. I will record it for the Audio Log.
[1421] A bizarre and strange phenomenon has taken place, one which I cannot explain, nor any member of the crew can explain. Indeed it is difficult to record this to the log, as it is almost unbelievable. Let me start by saying that I have been to seventeen other planets, fifteen meteoroids, eleven moons, and ninety-six space platforms in orbit around various celestial objects, even piloted and been a passenger aboard vessels that have traveled to secret recesses of the galaxy, however, I have never seen what I am about to report. Indeed, the phenomenon started over one hour ago, and I did not report it until now, as I could not be sure it wasn’t a hallucination. The sky, the light clouds, the air around us, and our own perceptions of life aboard the Uncle Tom became inversed, like the negatives of old photography film. It remained this way constantly, several times, flashing back to a state of normality, and when these flashes occurred, we observed thousands of other vessels sailing beside us, however, they took no notice of us. They all sailed in the same direction, on the endless sea. We don’t know where they came from, or where they went once our site resumed seeing in the negative state. I think the crew is about to crack up, literally, and I don’t blame them. These visions we are seeing, the deaths of our crewmates, the fact that our equipment is failing, is enough to put even the most ardent of mariners in an asylum. I’ve decided to immediately duplicate this log, and set the copy adrift so that in time, somebody may find it. I make another copy and repeat this process daily. At the end of it, I will place our beacon frequency, so rescue officials will be able to locate us, and mount a rescue. This is the only course of action I feel is prudent at this time.
[1500] Copy number 4: S/V Uncle Tom, Beacon Frequency 4.756 S.S.Hhz and 15 Revolutions.
**
This is the final log entry for what is apparently a copy of the original log. Sailors Paradise has been scanned and searched thoroughly, and no evidence of the position of the UT exists, and there is no broadcast from the vessel’s beacon.
Robin-Scott Johnson is a true-life adventurer and world traveler who follows in the footsteps of his heroes such as the Australian Filmmaker Alby Mangles and travel writer Peter Greenberg. His life's.. more..
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