COFFIN SHIP

Captain’s Log. Captain Charles Anson, HMS Partition. November 12th 1732

Thank God! I breathe a great sigh of relief that, thus far, we are incident free. Our first port of call in charge of mine own ship, HMS Partition, as we sink anchor in Madeira. We shall take on provisions and fresh water here and I anticipate a delay of only two days before we depart for the Americas; two days when I can relax from the stresses of captaincy that have weighed heavily upon my shoulders.  I have treated myself to several casks of the famous wine…

Letter to his wife from Thomas Adams, Chief Mate, HMS Partition, November 12th 1732

My dear wife, this letter I send from Madeira. My concerns I shall put to one side for the sake of the success of our mission but, as you know, we have been forced to use the press to make up our full coterie and I fear that we lack the experience necessary to life on a vessel such as ours. Indeed, many of those forced against their will into service seem sadly close to the end of their days. We call them waisters, unfit for life at sea. As well, a captain must be father, confessor, judge and jury to all hands but this man, Anson, seems none of these things, confining himself to his cabin, a stranger to his crew, a portent of things to come…

Private Diary of Sergeant A. Smithers, Royal Marines (assigned to HMS Partition), November 12th 1732

Well so far so good I spose. With me three colleagues we accepts our lot though me heart is ‘eavy at the thought of being away from home for three years. So far I am not impressed by the man in whose authority I am placed. Captain Anson seems to me an aloof character and has not yet introjuced hisself to we who have to offer protection should such occasion arise.  

The crew too seem to me inexperienced eyes to be a ruff bunch many so old or maim that it is difficult to believe that they will survive and see old Blighty again. The chief mate seems level headed enuff…

Captain’s Log November 13th 1732

Just one day from Madeira and already an attempt at thievery! Some cretin has tried to break into a barrel of salt pork. Though the villain has not been caught, I have ordered that those on watch on the lower deck shall be punished. By God, I shall make an example and show this crew that I am not to be meddled with.

Private musings of Albert Byron, Chief Carpenter, HMS Partition, November 15th 1732

Listless weather. Yesterday, not one day from port, the skipper ordered a flogging, not for the culprit of any crime but for those on watch. This being my fourth such voyage, I have never yet experienced such a thing. One o’ my apprentice chippys, Donald Purcell, who I personally encouraged to join me on the Party, was one of those severely punished by 100 lashings. As he lay in agony in his hammock, he told me that he had glimpsed he who, by rights, should have been punished. He could not best describe the culprit, a stranger. Purcell has sworn me to secrecy, saying that this intruder gave off an aura of intimidation that causes him to say nothing on the matter.

Captain’s Log November 18th 1732

We make good progress. I am satisfied. However, a report from the marine sergeant assigned to us suggests that a strange character was observed near to the arms lock up where all muskets are stowed. This, along with the incident of theft, not five days hence, is of great concern. I have ordered a full muster of all hands…

Letter to his wife from Thomas Adams, Chief Mate, November 18th 1732

As before, dear wife, I shall continue writing with the day’s occurrences so that, when we next reach port, I can send this missive to you and it shall be as up to date as possible with the course of my voyage. Still, the captain continues to concern me.

Firstly, we had a small alarm when a member of the crew was sighted loitering near to the provisions lock up and some pork was reported missing though, when I checked, all was in order. The captain ordered those on watch to be punished. I argued against this course of action but he insisted; in my view, a bad decision that has enraged all hands. A few days later, a similar situation took place when a man was seen near the armoury lock up.  

Apart from the watch, both places, on the lower deck, are out of bounds to the crew and, indeed, I hold the only keys to both padlocks. On the second occasion, the tar that had sighted the intruder was confident that he could describe the person but became confused in the telling…

Captain’s Log December 4th 1732

I believe that I have asserted my authority and, though I am new to my captaincy, the crew can be in no doubt that my word is law. I have high hopes that our voyage shall now continue trouble free. Do not these men understand the great burden placed upon me?

Letter to his wife from Thomas Adams, Chief Mate, December 5th 1732

I continue my letter, dear wife. Sadly, today, we had our first casualties when one of those press ganged into service, a decent enough old codger, expired upon his hammock. According to our surgeon, Jones, old age being the cause. He was afforded full burial honours.  

This night, another death; this time a midshipman, not seventeen years of age, found dead upon the floor of the orlop deck, one of those innocent unfortunates flogged on the orders of the captain.  

Surgeon Jones ascertained that the punishment had adversely affected his heart for, otherwise, he seemed in perfect health. This latest fatality of one so young has cast a gloomy despondency over the entire crew…

Journal of Ivor Jones, Chief Surgeon, HMS Partition, December 5th 1732

After three uneventful weeks at sea, my first maritime voyage, I was called to my first patient. Alas, there was nothing I could do as the man was greatly aged and had expired as he slept. But, later this same evening, I was, once again, summoned from my cabin to attend another casualty and, this time also, I was unable to affect any remedy. The young lad’s eyes were open and staring still as one who has just espied something terrible. I, myself, was shocked and quickly closed both eyelids, attributing his demise to the savage thrashing he had endured

Letter to his wife from Thomas Adams, Chief Mate, December 9th 1732

Six more deaths, dear wife. Most concerning. Jones, the surgeon was unable to conclude the cause of deaths and I begin to think that he is not very good at his job. I also suspect that he is under the influence of drink though I cannot detect this on his breath. His treatment of one hand, who had fallen from the mainmast and broken an arm, left a lot to be desired and I only hope that I shall never require his attention. Nevertheless, we are now short eight hands and this causes me no small problem. Today though, an incident occurred that I seek to record in full, so strange was it. 

Anson, most unusually, appeared on the upper deck, feigning to be inspecting ropes and such and as he walked, spake not a word to anybody. To my eyes, he seemed unsteady and I wondered if he had been drinking when, suddenly, he turned and looked up at the quarter deck and appeared almost apoplectic at what he espied. 

Shouting and gesturing, he turned to me, exclaiming: “Do you see him?” I looked immediately to where he was pointing above us and, indeed, I did catch sight of a fleeting, dark shadow but, almost instantly, it vanished.

Following Anson as he strode towards the steps leading up to the quarter deck, there was not a sign of any person to be found. Like a madman, the captain ran from one part of the quarter deck to the next though there was no place for anybody to be concealed. I tried to explain this but he gave me short shrift, ordering an immediate muster.  

“I saw him with mine own eyes. I would recognise him instantly”.  

I pleaded with him to share this description for, unlike Anson, I know every man and boy aboard this ship and would be able to fit a name to the intruder but he seemed to struggle beyond the words: “black, dark…”

The muster was called though, as we were heading into a fierce squall, I had no choice other than to keep a half dozen, trimmers and top men, atop, manning the sails. Anson marched furiously along each line, examining every face close up, most of whom he had never previously encountered. Yet he could not detect the intruder.  

Now convinced that he must be one of those aloft, though how a man could fly from the quarter deck to the mainmast escapes me, he ordered them down immediately though I pointed out that he was placing the ship in grave danger by doing so but he would brook no argument. Down they came and, once again, mere boys, soaked to the skin and bedraggled, they received the same, intense scrutiny as all others with none matching the image he held inside his head.

“I want the ship searched…immediately”, he ordered.

The storm had increased in strength and I sent the poor boys back up top. Then I organised teams to search each deck, each cask, each chest, every nook and cranny; no stone to be left unturned. Naturally, this incident has caused a negative effect upon each and every sailor aboard.  

The marine sergeant and surgeon, who had been forced to take part in the muster, gathered around me in great concern as Anson trudged off, unsteadily, to his cabin. I kept my counsel despite their barrage of questions though, dear wife, the image of that shadowy darkness that I had, myself, sighted, haunted me for the rest of this day, made worse by the searching teams finding nothing apart from rats upon each of the below decks. When I reported this to the captain, he ordered another search and, though I protested that we needed all hands on deck, he insisted and I had to acquiesce-again with no luck.

Journal of Ivor Jones, Chief Surgeon, HMS Partition, December 9th 1732

I hate this ship, the Party. I regret signing on. Today I was forced to join a line up of others, standing in the teeming rain for more than an hour as the ship tossed every which way and the captain, Anson, made his way along each line examining our faces close up. I have never even spoken to the man and I am sure, despite my clothing, that he has no idea of the position I hold on this ship.  

This evening, two more deaths. One, a young boy, soaked to the skin, lost his grip despite his hands being tarred and fell headlong into the ocean; impossible to rescue. The other, found dead on the main deck, one of the marines, his uniform drenched through. Yet again, I could not identify the cause of death though my capacity, I admit, was impaired by an increased dose of ether which I am resorting to more and more to help me get through this ordeal.

Private Diary of Sergeant A. Smithers, December 9th 1732

Violently seasick. Struggling to cope now that we are in rough waters. Me fellow marines suffer the same but one of us at least is now put out o’ his misery for he were found dead this evening. Young Martin were only twenty year old and that idiot, Jones, can cast no lite on what caused his passing.  

Letter to his wife from Thomas Adams, Chief Mate, December 12th 1732

Well, dear wife, the Party, as all on board have come to call this ship, has proven itself in the harshest of seas. Though it is not the largest of vessels, it has faced up manfully to the fearsome weather that we have encountered thus far. However, four more unexplained deaths and, from experience, exactly one month into our voyage, I recognise signs of the Plague of the Sea in some of the older hands and I fear the worst for I cannot rid my mind of that strange, unknown person I sighted upon the quarterdeck.

Journal of Ivor Jones, Chief Surgeon, HMS Partition, December 12th 1732

Much I have heard of the disease known as scurvy. Indeed, I have devoured every known medical tome that provides a “cure”. Yet, nothing could have prepared me for the reality. Skin turning blue, then black, dark as charcoal.  

Swollen ankles, thighs, knees, hips-all the way up to the shoulders -causing severe pain and immobility; this being only the beginning. Within days, those affected begin to lose their hair and teeth, their breath reeking worse than the bilge in the orlop deck. Eyes bloodshot, these men resemble monsters, not humans, and plead with me to put them out of their misery. Nothing I have tried has been able to ease their symptoms and each day brings forth more sufferers. I retreat to my cabin and inhale my own relief from this nightmare.

Letter to his wife from Thomas Adams, Chief Mate, December 22nd 1732

A great deal I have to write, dear wife, though it has been some time since last I put pen to paper. The scurvy has devastated our congregation; death upon death. Since I last wrote, eighteen more have succumbed to the illness and passed; two throwing themselves over the side in an effort to end their agony. Still more lie in their berths, unable to lift even a finger and I fear for what is to come. 

I, myself, feel fatigued and delirious and am subject to strange visions that cause me to despair.  

Yet, the fate of this ship and those that remain depends on me-and me alone. Jones, the surgeon is addicted to inhalation of ether, I discover, and our captain, Anson, though I fear to commit this to paper, is a lush and I found him comatose in his cabin, one cask of Madeira grog already emptied. The nightmarish weather continues unabated…

Private musings of Albert Byron, Chief Carpenter, HMS Partition, December 24th 1732

We are doomed! Of that I am certain. Our number, greatly reduced, cannot hope to see us round the Cape and only the ministrations of Adams is keeping our spirits up and our ship afloat.  

The mizzenmast was damaged badly in the hellish weather that we have floundered in for more than three weeks. I have affected repairs as best I can but it will surely go again at any time. No longer is the half hour bell tolled for we can spare nobody for such trivial tasks. Those few old salts among us share my fears though such is their hardiness and resilience that they make light of every crisis, singing this refrain, even as they face the end:

We sailed from home aboard the Party

Us old tars, hale and hearty

The Plague of the Sea has reduced us to bones

And soon all aboard shall join Davy Jones

The scurvy causes us to see things that we cannot explain. This being my fourth voyage, I am no stranger to such occurrences. Yet, never have I known all those afflicted to share the same vision. One of a stranger amongst us, seen one moment, fleetingly, then vanishing from sight. One by one, we are doomed to die.

Letter to his wife from Thomas Adams, Chief Mate, December 25th 1732



We flounder, my precious wife. We are tossed from wave to wave. Our mizzenmast is gone and ere long our mainmast will follow. There can be no more than a handful of us left though where they choose to await their fate I have no idea. I can hear the mainmast creaking now, assailed by tempestuous winds and the waves that surpass it in height.  It is a miracle that we are still afloat and is testimony to those who built this sturdy vessel, the Party, though it cannot survive much longer. You will, I fear, never read this missive but, still, I feel the need to commit my words to paper.  

Two days hence, I heard a great noise from below and, making my way, struggling against the waves that threatened to sweep me overboard and down into the deep, I found that our errant skipper, Anson, had taken his life by use of his flintlock. Coward that he was! 

Several times, I have espied the stranger that has stalked us with no name. Yet, each time, though I have been frozen in place with fear, he has passed me by. Now, though, I am ready and know it is my time and I await his arrival but, dear wife, fear not for an end will bring only relief and, at last, I know who he is. I know him by name…and his name is Death!