Trembling With Fear 02/02/2020

A Perfect Day for Sailing by Karter Mycroft

Someone called the Coast Guard at 0900 because they thought they saw a sailboat drifting past Malibu with no one aboard. Seaman Jacob Charles and Petty Officer John Beeker responded aboard the powerboat OLE-3, and located the vessel in question at 1045. The ship was identified as the S/V Bellingham, a 33-foot remodeled schooner registered to a Mr. Painter of Ventura. It was abandoned.

The initial investigation lasted an hour. Charles and Beeker tied off the OLE-3 to the Bellingham’s hull, boarded the vessel, and dropped its anchor. They split up to search the deck and cabin. Topside, Charles paced from stem to stern, looking for signs of an accident or a struggle. He checked the radio next to the helm and found it in good working order. A couple of fishing poles lay half-assembled near the prow, but otherwise the deck was in fine shape. It was a beautiful day, too, calm and sunny with a light breeze coming in from the northwest. It had been that way all week.

“You find anything?” Beeker reemerged up the ladder.

“Clean as a whistle up here,” said Charles. “You think she just came loose from her mooring?”

Beeker shook his head grimly. “I saw fresh clothes down there, jewelry, and perishables in the kitchen. And this.” He lifted his hand with a jingle. He was holding a dog collar. 

“I think there was a whole family aboard.”

Charles couldn’t help feeling impressed by Beeker’s deductive reasoning. 

Beeker stepped over to the gunwale. “Something’s up here. I’m gonna radio Forensics. This is above our pay grade.”

Charles wiped his brow. “I’ll follow you in a bit. I want to look around some more.” 

“You should leave that to Forensics.” Beeker climbed back aboard the OLE-3. 

Charles knew he was right, but he stayed aboard the Bellingham anyway. Normally the calls they got were so routine it made him feel like he never accomplished a thing. But this was a real, honest-to-god abandoned ship. What could make an entire family vanish, in calm waters, with a full stock of supplies and a working radio? They were missing something, maybe something he could uncover before Forensics arrived. How many times had they rejected his applications, saying he lacked practical experience? This could be his big chance.

He climbed down to the cabin. It was tidy, no sign of struggle or fire or anything else out of the ordinary, except some thin scratches on the wood floor, probably from the dog. The sea rose and fell beneath him, giving the cabin a woozy bob as he approached the beds. There were three of them, one double-wide and two smaller ones. All looked like they’d been freshly made that morning. 

The kitchen sat in a nook next to the beds. Everything was secured, not a single pan out of place. Charles checked the drawers under the stove. Canned fruit, bags of rice, a couple empty packages of meat. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he was sure he didn’t find it.

On his way back, he checked under the beds. There, underneath the double, he did find something: a little wrinkled notebook, bound with twine. His heart raced as he undid the knot. 

It was Mr. Painter’s log. Like any good sailor, he kept a record of each departure and arrival, and notes on each day at sea. Charles sat down on the double bed and skimmed the first few pages. 

It was all painfully ordinary. 

20150808 – Saw dolphins today. 

20160214 – Bad clog in the head. Returning early.

20170328 – Took a long nap. Woke up to high winds. Had to strike the mains.

He flipped to the most recent entry. 

20190716 – Departed Oxnard at 0830. Brought Shelly and the boys. Visiting Grampa in San Diego w/ pit stop in O.C. Beautiful weather, everyone excited. Never been happier.

“Well, shit.” 

Charles felt like he knew even less than before. Mr. Painter had known exactly where they were going, he hadn’t noted any problems, and the log showed nothing but pure intentions. Now the whole family was gone, and Charles didn’t have a clue why. 

He sighed and flopped back on the bed. If he’d been a real investigator, he might have devised some theory, discovered some hidden detail, and cracked the case. But he had no theory. He had an empty ship and an empty skull. When they returned to base he would go back to writing tickets to party boats, and eventually Forensics would solve the mystery and all the glory would be theirs.

The cabin rose and dipped, almost in time with his breathing. The hull gave a slight groan, almost like a yawn, which made Charles yawn in turn. He tucked the log in his pocket and rubbed his eyes. At least he’d found some evidence, even if it was lousy evidence. Maybe Beeker might be impressed with him, for once.

He realized he’d become very tired. He should have gone to meet Beeker on the OLE-3. But the bed was so comfortable, and the sea so gentle, and his brain started inventing sleepy excuses. Maybe he should stick around a while longer. At least until Forensics showed up, so he could show them where he’d found the journal. Get some face time with the real detectives. Good career move. He should get off the bed at least, he knew, to keep from tampering with evidence. But it was just so cozy, rocking him like a baby in its mother’s arms. 

In moments, he was asleep. The Bellingham swayed over the gentle sea, and Charles started to snore. A layer of cloud passed over the sun, and the light coming in the portholes on either side of the bed changed from yellow to gray. The ship bobbed and swayed and Charles snored and snored. 

The portholes blinked. 

A rumble came into the cabin. The hull of the Bellingham exhaled and its polished wood panels began to change shape. One by one they came loose from the floor, bending like fingers around the bed, bearing it down to the seething compartments below. A faint ray of sun returned to the portholes as the ship slid Charles off the bed. He gave a loud snore, only partly rousing. The hull twisted, raising rows of groaning, jagged wooden teeth. Charles stirred, opening his eyes just in time to see the light was all gone, as the ship bent its sneering planks down onto his body, sank into his flesh, and ate him.