Jacob Shogren was the finest captain anyone could hope to serve under. A quiet, polite man; his

love of the sea was matched only by his love for his ship. The son of two Bostonian well-to-dos, he attended the

University of Cambridge in Britain, where he studied life sciences. Gathering research for a thesis on barnacle and

shellfish populations, his studies led him eventually to his hometown. He visited his parents briefly, where he

learned his mother had succumbed two years earlier to bone cancer. Very distressed, he went to the docks, where he

remembered playing as a child. He pushed his way through the crowded fish markets, feeling rather like a sardine

himself, and made it to the dock. "And that," he often told us, "was where I saw her."
        Even those of us just looking for work had to agree: the Lusitania II was a beautiful vessel. Jacob waited at the docks for seven hours before the captain returned. He says "I stood up, handed him a blank check, and took his hat." Jacob walked up the gangplank and never once did he come back down. He kept on the old crew, but soon found them too rowdy and vulgar for his New England upper-class sensibilities. From that point on, he replaced one with someone more to his liking with each stop he made.
        I was only the second hire. I had been hauling a cart of sand dab down a Rhode Island dock and admiring "Ol' Lucy II" as Jacob called her, when the captain called down "You down there! How would you like to come on?" At the time, I was a bit of a rake, and so seeing his still-crisp suit, took him for a wealthy merchant seeking out young men with whom to smoke hookah and drink brandy.
        "I'd like it very much," I called back.

        I sat down on a grimy wooden chair and sniffed the air for smoke or alcohol. He sat in the chair across from me and began a long and desperate request that I join his crew. "I didn't think you meant 'come on' forever," I said, realizing my error. "I thought you wanted a smoking companion."
        "Sir, I never smoke!"
         "Well, I am sorry, but I cannot stay here."
         "Please, sir!" The captain said, waving his arms as if trying to frighten away a seagull, "my crew is rowdy and vulgar! I know little about the seas!"
        Both of these statements struck me as a bit odd, coming from the captain of a ship. "I,  too, am rowdy and vulgar," I called as I walked down the gangplank, "and I know nothing of the seas."
        The captain stopped at this. He looked up at the sky and winced at the bright sun. "Do you not work at the docks?"
        "Aye, on the docks, not on a ship!"
        "And, is it not true that cargo ships must conduct business on a dock?"
        And so, after telling my parents "good-by", I joined the crew of the Lusitania II.
        
        Captain Shogren took jobs all around the world "just to see," said he, "if the water is the same." On one voyage to Thailand, we acquired an entire hold of red-faced monkeys. The crew was driven half-mad by the shrieking of the beasts, but upon reaching port, we sold all the raucous animals for two hundred dollars each. "And to think," Jacob exclaimed, "I was taught that those creatures should be on my family tree!"
        For the most part, though, we transported dry goods. Wheat, salt,rice, cloth. I was sent in the captain's stead to negotiate terms. Upon reaching port, Jacob would retreat to his cabin and refuse to emerge until he felt the sway of the sea. At first, we were entrusted only with linen and no longer the upstarts, but one of the regulars. As our reputation grew, we were entrusted with automobiles, artillery shells, fountain pens, and, very recently, diamonds straight from the mine in Namibia. The crew was unimpressed by the dull translucent stones until the captain explained that, once cut and polished, they would reflect light so dazzling it could burn a horse's eye out.
        
        After we delivered the diamonds to the jeweler in  New York, we ran into a bit of a dry spell. The rainy season had started, and the seas were too rough to sail, much less risk a client's cargo. "You boys go and have a break," said the captain, "I'll put you up in the tavern." Twenty of us shared the four rooms in the place, and all day we drank and played gin-rummy. Every few days I would go into the Lusitania II and visit with Jacob. He had taken up  painting,  and every time I visited, he seemed to have doubled his work. Journals, repair planks, and even nautical maps had been covered with paint from a set he had asked the doctor to buy him . Despite selling paints and brushes, the store had not carried canvasses, and so the captain was forced to express himself upon important documents.
         "Yesterday, I saw a most peculiar bird," said the captain, fishing around a pile, presumably for his painting of it. "It was red and it had a call like that of a screeching cat." He stopped, unfurled a fulfilled contract, and turned it over.
        "That is the vilest bird I've ever seen," said I.
         "Isn't it? It landed on the ledge of my porthole."
        "Have you seen any other strange things?"
        "No. How is it down there?"     
        "Down where?"
        "On land, sir."
        "Ah! It's fine. We've been playing gin-rummy. I must admit, the scenery is getting a bit dull." I looked at the painting again. The bird glared at me, its beady eyes shining.
        "The rain should let up soon. I heard a man saying that just today, as he passed by the ship. I'm itching to get back on the waves."
        "But what will happen to your new hobby?"
        "I expect I'll keep on it for a bit, then throw them out after a few days at sea."

        The weather did not let up. Two weeks later, it was still raining. My visits to the captain had ended after seeing his bird. The tavern had sprung a leak over the course of our stay, and a steady stream of water poured from the ceiling onto an empty table. The entire crew had long since tired of gin-rummy, and we had moved on to checkers. Two men would play, and the rest would split into teams of supporters, each cheering for one man or the other. It got quite rowdy, but we were the only customers in the place anyway, since all the fishermen had retired for the season. The barman, having no work to do, often joined in the cheering, and even played a few games himself.
        After a particularly loud match, I suddenly found myself stuck between Lawrence the Navigator and Lawrence the cook, who had (allegedly) hidden a red token up his sleeve. I suffered a black eye and the two Lawrences stalked off to opposite ends of the room. I decided to visit the captain.
         "Lawrence and Lawrence had a fight," I said, explaining what had happened to my left eye. "Over a checkers match. We're all getting a bit tense, cooped up in that place, nothing but rain outside."
         "Well, you're all welcome to stay in the ship." Jacob said, "I've run out of subjects." He indicated a stack of paintings, splotches of color and ill-defined shapes.
        "Did you ever see that bird again?"
        "The red one? Or the black one?"
        "The black one?"
        "Oh, I'm sorry, you haven't seen the black one." He turned around, and gathered up some scrolls. "He comes very often, and he stands stock-still at the porthole until I've finished." I looked. It was certainly black. Whether or not it was a bird, I cannot say.
        "This is a bird?"
        "Oh, yes. It flies, anyway." The black thing did appear to have wings. Tendrils of paint slashed across the paper, and the wings were smudged, giving the impression of movement.
         "Captain, do you think I could see this bird?"
         "Certainly. Unless you intend to scare it, in which case I don't think it will care to visit."

        I stayed on the ship that night, without telling the crew where I had gone, although they must have known. The captain painted and I slept, until I was awoken by a soft tapping sound.
         "What's going on?"
         "Shush! You'll scare him off!" Jacob stared intently at the porthole, and began to sketch. I stood up quietly and walked to his desk. The captain scribbled furiously.  I looked over his shoulder through the window, and saw the bird. It was undoubtedly a bird, but I understood instantly why I was confused at the paintings. The bird was almost exactly the color of the night outside, and its form seemed in flux. I saw that the tendrils Jacob had painted were an attempt to portray this. Yet, as it seemed to move, it was as Jacob said; the thing stood stiff as a board, not a muscle twitched.
        "My God, I've never seen such a-" the bird flew away, and immediately it began to rain.
         "Damn!"
        "I'm sorry, captain, I-"
         "Damn!"
        "I'm sorry." The captain was quiet. I looked at his sketch. I recoiled at the drawing, for it was a face. The eyes were dark and absolutely blank; the nose was a flat pair of slits; the mouth an endless tunnel.
         "Captain-"
        "That was the clearest it's ever been."

        The following morning, I bade the captain farewell, and ran through the pouring rain to the tavern. I was surprised to see that the Lawrences had so quickly made amends; I was even more surprised to see that a new visitor had arrived.
         "Hello," I said, "we haven't met. I stayed on our ship last night."
        "Ah, the Lusitania II?"
        "Yes, sir."     
         "Might you be the translator?"  
        "In a way, yes, sir."
        "Very good. I would have had my shipment out last night, but they-" he jerked his head towards the crew "said I needed to speak with you."
        "You have a shipment for us? In this weather?"
        "Yes. I know it's risky, but it's important to us that our shipment arrives in time for Easter." He gave a self-important nod.
        "And you're shipping...eggs?"
         "Bibles."
         "Ah."
         "Bibles, to Brazil."
         "Brazil?"
        "Yes, Brazil. Will you ship them or not?"
        "I'm sure the crew will be up for it, but sir, the weather-"
        "I don't care about the weather; if these Bibles aren't sent out by tomorrow, Easter will have ended before they arrive, ruined or not. Will you take them?"
        "I'll have to consult with the captain," I said, motioning to Harold's daughter for a glass of whiskey. "Do you drink?"
        "I drink only during communion."
        "Suit yourself." I downed the liquor, and returned to the ship, where the captain had just begun his breakfast- canned sardines on crackers. He seemed not to notice me as I came in.
         "Captain, we've got a client."
        "In this weather?"
        "I told him the same, but he says his cargo needs to be delivered as soon as possible."
        "Did he not think to ask a captain who less values his ship and crew?"
        "Your crew is ready and willing to take on another job."
        "Well then, I suppose I shall dash my ship against the reefs of Australia to deliver..."
         "Bibles. And he wants them sent to Brazil."
         "Brazil or Australia, either way, she'll sink." He plucked another sardine from the dark water. "I love this ship, and I'll not have a child-minded nitwit like him take it away."
         "Captain, for two years, you've taken every shipment, no matter what the contents, at every time of year, in every type of weather. This is not about Lucy's safety."
        "And what is it about?"
        I gave a heavy jerk of the head to his paintings.
        He looked East, towards the open ocean.
         "Gather up the crew."
        I was puzzled at his lack of protest, but within the hour, I had convinced the crew to return to the ship and deliver the shipment. Lawrence the Navigator packed away his checkers board and bought five bottles of whiskey from Harold.
        "I'm sorry to see you all go," he said. "Come and visit again, sometime."
        We all promised to do so, and waved from the bow until the docks were out of sight.
        A few miles out to sea, the captain emerged from his cabin and surveyed the crew. He nodded in approval and made his way down to the wheel.
        "I'll take over, Carl." The acting captain stepped down and let Jacob take the wheel. He breathed deep and pulled up the hood of his raincoat. To Brazil.

        By that night, Jacob had grown back to his high-spirited self. We ran through our stock of brandy in that single evening, and although the captain was a self-proclaimed teetotalaer, he always carried a personal stock of spirits for the crew in times of celebration. This, too, was consumed by the time I went to bed.
        I had troubling dreams; the dark face in the captain's paintings opened its mouth in a yawn, revealing a labyrinth, which I suddenly found myself in the middle of. I made my way through marble corridors, turning every now and again, until I became aware of a presence in the labyrinth. As I walked, I heard echoing footsteps off beat from my own. I knew if I stopped moving, I would be overtaken. When I awoke, it was with a cold sweat and a racing heart.
        
        I climbed the stairs from the bunks to the upper deck. The weather was still miserable, and the sea stretched to all corners of my vision. I looked down to the wheel and saw the captain, holding steady and looking intently at the distant clouds.
         "Hello down there!" I called to him. He looked up, and waved me down.
        "You were right, sir. Sailing does me good."
        "I'm glad to hear it," said I, gripping the rail of the bow. "We're moving fast; at this rate we're sure to make the delivery."
        The captain said nothing, only continued to smile and turned the wheel slightly.
        I chuckled. "Bibles to Brazil- do you suppose he was a missionary?"
        "I suppose he was."
        "He certainly dressed like one."
        "I wouldn't know."
        We fell silent and both smiled at the water. The clouds darkened, and a light drizzle began coming down. I pointed to a small bird flying by.
         "First mate."
        "Yes, Captain."
        "We aren't going to Brazil."
        "I'm sorry?"
        "We aren't going to deliver the bibles."
        "What are you saying?"
        "I'm saying we're going East!"
         "Captain, what about our record? What about the client? You can't have forgotten-"
        "What does that cloud look like to you?" he shouted. I followed his point, to the dark clouds ahead. They pulsed as I observed them.
         "It...." looked like a black bird. By whatever force, tendrils of vapor protruded from the mass, and the wings moved, almost too slowly to detect.
        At that moment, Lawrence, who had apparently woken up and promptly gone to check the compass, emerged from the bridge.
         "Captain! We're nearly four hundred miles off course!"
        "Go explain, first mate," Jacob nodded towards Lawrence. I stared, incredulous. He nodded again.
         "I....the Captain...."
         "What's going on?"
         "Er...." I looked down at my feet. Lawrence had reached us, and now stood before me. "The Captain has decided...that....that heading for Brazil in this weather..."
        "The sea's rougher, where we're going," said Lawrence, "and it's twice as far as New York." He pushed me gently out of the way and approached the wheel.
        Lawrence had a way about him. In times of debate, Lawrence was the deciding factor, if only for how loud and imposing the man was. Despite his job as a map-reader and nagging force to the Captain, he was physically suited for lifting boulders. In a fight, Lawrence always came out on top. I mention this to explain the weight of what happened next.
        With remarkable speed, Jacob turned and delivered a punch to Lawrence's belly that laid him out on the deck as if he were a hundred pounds lighter. The impact of the navigator, I was told by Lawrence the Cook, knocked down a stack of dishes in the kitchen.
        For a moment, Lawrence was still. Then, his senses returned, and he stood up, staring unbelievingly at Jacob. He made no attempt to retaliate; he simply turned around, holding his stomach, and plodded to the bridge.
        Jacob turned in like, and grabbed hold of the wheel again.
        "To the unknown, then."

        The ship trembled as if from a chill. The rain continued to fall in sheets; the sails uttered a constant threat to tear. I had re-stationed myself in the bridge, and, after quite a lot of argument, Lawrence had allowed the Captain to enter as well. Carl had retaken the wheel, and was struggling with the winds.
        Jacob, irritated at us for how his adventure had turned out, had become demanding. Twice I had ventured out in the rain to fetch him a biscuit, and he threw a fit when the first had become soggy on my trip back.
         "Lawrence, use the sextant."
        "It's too foggy; I can't find Polaris."
        "Aim for Crux!"
        "I can't, sir! I can't aim for anything in this storm!"
        "Then just turn the damn thing around!"
         "Captain, if we even touch the sails, they'll rip!"
        Upon hearing this, Jacob threw his spyglass onto the floor and departed for his cabin.
         "Lawrence, just try to get us clear of the storm," I said, my hand on his shoulder. He nodded and began poring over the maps.
        "I've never seen him like this," he said while tracing a line from New York to, ostensibly, where we were now.
        "Me neither. He's never this way. It's that bird; he's obsessed."       
         "Captain's got a woman?"
        "No, a bird." Lawrence looked up and stared. "I'll explain when we're back on land." I gazed out the door Jacob had left open.
         "Captain," I called, knocking on his cabin's door.
        "Go away!" He shouted impatiently, as if behind the barrier, he was searching for something. I knocked heavily again. I could hear, over the creaking of the boat, shelves being emptied of their contents and drawers being flung across the room. After a couple minutes, I returned to the bridge.
        "Have you found a way?"
        "No, sir. I just can't see where we are. The compass is done for, too." I looked at the pole-mounted compass. The needle spun wildly in erratic circles. "What's this bird?"
        "Land ho! Front port side!" Called the spotter. Lawrence and I looked up from the table, and saw a small black island far ahead.
        "Go round, Carl," I called. He waved silently in affirmation. He suddenly stopped waving and began pointing.
        "Sir, look!" I barely heard over the wind. I looked. The island was growing as I watched. The black rocks rose out of the water, suddenly buoyant. "Sir, the island-"
        "I know, Carl!"

        I was overcome by the stench of rotting fish. Carl, who was unprotected by the walls of the bridge, vomited. The island continued to rise, and with it, a luminescence, the source of which I could not explain. I glanced back at the captain's cabin. The door was still shut tight. The island was rising faster now, and I suddenly realized that it was not an island at all. Eyes. The light cut through the black water with two elliptical beams, and as the creature rose still higher, I grabbed hold of the guard rail to prepare myself.
        The eyes crested the surface of the waves, and the light became blinding. As my vision grew accustomed, I could see the beast that held the radiance. The two spots of light were buried deep in a bulbous head, veined and slick. Rivulets of ocean water poured down the face of the thing, and where I expected to see a mouth I saw instead a tangled mass of feelers, each one writhing like a caught eel. The wind stopped.
        The eyes scanned the ocean like a pair of lighthouses. The ship, save for the tantrum occurring in the captain's quarters, was completely silent. We stood and stared. The head was balanced atop a thin neck that sunk into the immense body. Tattered wings were folded behind the creature's back. Its arms were lean and muscular, yet its fingers, which presently were resting upon the waves, looked to be bloated and festering. I saw mussels clinging to its knuckles and a kelp forest rooted in its left thigh. I became aware of a low moan emanating from the squirming cluster of tentacles.
        Lawrence hid beneath the drafting-table, and whimpered as the voice grew louder. Carl, who until this point had simply watched, broke free of his spell and began running to the escape rafts. The moan elevated into a howl, and then a primal scream that tore the canvas sails from their masts. With the call came a shower of grey slime and thousands of enormous maggots.
        Snorting, the leviathan sucked its tentacles inward for a moment, then released another shriek, more deafening than the last. In the moments before I had the sense to run, I saw the feelers spreading like the flames of a firework, each one agitatedly whipping about. The bridge was engulfed in the multitude and I could somehow hear Lawrence screaming over the enormous snapping of Lucy's bow. The vile face pulled away from the room, and I could see our navigator clutching his leg and mewling, shards of glass embedded in his face and chest.         
        The monster turned to me and I prayed to go mad; its eyes burned mine in their brilliance, and the stink of it was unbearable.
        I could hear the hull straining. The ship seemed to be buckling under a tremendous pressure. I looked to my left and saw those decomposing fingers digging into the deck. Its arms tensed slightly, and the ship was snapped in two like a plank of balsawood. The crewmen who had cowered in their bunks fell screaming into the freezing water. The creature bent, allowing its twisting face to pluck men from the frigid sea.
         Faintly: I could hear the captain carrying on in his cabin, seemingly unaware of the horrors occurring just outside his door. I began knocking again-
         "Captain! Let me in!"
        "-yah w'gana-ag-"
         "Captain!" I beat the door with my fist; watching out of the corner of my eye Thomas, our newest recruit, struggling to escape the coils. "Captain, you must open this door!"
         "-unug-maglawna-"
        The beast began to turn slowly, as a mountain would turn.
         "Captain Shogren!" I thrust my entire weight at the door, leaving the deck briefly as I did so. My head struck the slick ground and I heard the "crack" of my nose breaking. "Cabtaid!!" I threw myself again, hearing a stronger "crack." A small fracture in the door became visible. I kicked at the fissure with all my might, and the door split. I rushed into the cabin.
        I collapsed in the corner and tried to catch my breath, hearing the monstrous thing tearing walls out of the drifting fragment of The Lusitania II. The captain was unaffected by my entrance, and continued to rant.
        "You bust hab heard," I said, sponging blood off my face with my shirt, "de eldridge horror breagging abart your shib." I looked up and saw the far wall, illuminated by a holy candle. "Jagob..." I barely managed to speak even that much. On the wall, the captain had, in some arcane language, scrawled phrases or incantations all over the wall in jagged black letters. The captain's gibbering rose to an audible level.
         "D'fndlig S'rag'led ia. D'fndlig Shub-Niggurath ia. D'fndlig Yog-Sodot... " he paused, and crossed out a section on the wall. He set to correcting his mistake.
         "Cabdain, whad'd habbedig? How did thisz habbed?"
         "D'fndlig Yog-Sototh." This quieted us both. Though the shattered door I could hear our men in their death throes, squeezed to death by those filthy cant-hooks.  The wind had resumed, as had the rain. I stole a glance outside, and saw the black form standing as a statue, only its tentacles undulating slightly.
         "D'fndlig Cthulhu."
It cocked its head slightly and felt the air with two of its most slender tentacles. I dove back inside the cabin.
         "Cabdain, quied!" I hissed.
         "Dread Cthulhu has risen." He said in a raised voice. I reached out to stop him, but he stood from his crate and screeched with a cadence such that I could hardly discern the words.
         "PH'NGLUI MGLW'NAFH CTHULHU R'LYEH WGAH'NAGL FHTAGN!!!" I heard the creature turn towards the noise. I quailed, covering my eyes and nose, fearing what would soon be peering into the cabin; what would soon be swallowing us whole. In the darkness of my hands, I heard the captain scream with a closed mouth. He stopped briefly, then began retching.
The wind howled, but I could hear no rending of walls, nor the desperate thrashing of our crew.
I uncovered my eyes and looked about the cabin. The captain stood facing me. He had not yet been stolen away by those wretched tendrils.
  It was then, illuminated by the light of the monster's eyes, that I could see the captain's face. His mouth was stained red, and still more blood leaked out at the corners. A dark fire burned in his eyes, and he began ranting again.
         "PHWNGWI MGW'A-" As he opened his mouth I could see the crimson striations of exposed muscle. His tongue was split in two, blood flecked his teeth and poured out of his mouth as a tentacle lashed though the wall and snatched him from the cabin.
        He did not scream; he did not make a sound as Great Cthulhu held him. I heard, or imagined to hear, the snapping of his bones when I saw the corpulent beast devour him.
        
        I made hardly a sound as my own bones cracked inside that cavernous mouth.