Captain’s Log: Red Sea Witch
Day 2 in a Red Sea Witch bay
Dark and stormy nights they said. Maelstroms and typhoons they warn about. Anything and everything that can tear the sails and overload the bilge pump. What they don’t warn you about are the crosses along the shores. The ones far and away from any proper lighthouse. There you find the graveyards. Towering masts bleached white from the sea. Limp rope colonized by algae and decay.
I had the ill luck of finding myself floating near one of these desolate patches. A storm like any other, one that had no use for my attention that I had left to the lueftenant in charge, had somehow gotten away from us. Blown us from our course and clear off the map. The land mass we found ourselves against had not been charted by any cartography our monarch felt fit to pay.
Or maybe we are dead and don’t realize it yet. You don’t see a red sea witch unless you’ve perished. Out to sea is Davy’s domain. Here against the beach head is up for grabs. A lighthouse keeper would have your body taken to the kirk for a proper plot. Sea witches, they bury you between the worlds. Feet below the waterline, head toward the land. And that is limbo. Never in one or the other. Left to wander the shores wishing to watch the waves tack below you. Never to enter the forests and groves, but to see the trees from a distance.
The wind has calmed and left us here, stuck in a bay filled with crosses and gutted ships. The sun came and went twice and now we wait. Wait for wind, wait for rain, wait for her.
Day 3 in a Red Sea Witch bay
The lueftenant brought me news this morn while I consulted yet another useless map. A person has hailed us from the beach. Long hair and tattered clothes might mean they’re a survivor of a downed ship. Sailors were sent out in a rowboat to make contact. With luck on our side, we may just find out where we are.
Following up on the person:
Sea witch to be exact, and a man of all things. This is his bay. And I am lucky to get my sailors back. Though he did send back a bottle of brandy and a satchel of coconuts. He left a note in a script I have no hopes of deciphering. I will be gathering the crew at supper to pass it around. One of these new hires might know it.
After supper:
Of all the people who would recognize it, it would be the Parson, wouldn’t it? He knew the language from his time as a missionary. The sea witch left note that he would check his library for a map of the area.
Day 4 in a Red Sea Witch bay
The sailors sent to meet with the sea witch have not been added to the beach graveyard. I had feared pestilence and set a watch on them once it was known that the island resident was a Red Sea Witch. I must face even my small suspicion of the supernatural and step foot on this cursed shore. The sea witch has scrolls to share.
Day 5
Four knots out from that creepy bay and I am pleased to report that we have survived the encounter with a sea witch. I don’t think I would disregard the warnings just because of one man, but he was helpful. He gave us a scroll to navigate our way out and around this island. The shole was a terrible keel cutter if ever there was one. He also provided us with a series of papers of ship names. Some have people’s names on them. He wanted us to take them back to report them lost so the family could have peace.
With no kirk in sight and no way to keep bodies from floating back to the beach, maybe a sea witch’s duty isn’t to keep a spirit trapped in limbo, but to give them both worlds, even if it is on a thin strip between.
Chapel Orahamm (C) 2022-2024. All Rights Reserved.
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