Episode 13: An episode of maritime tales

Episode 13: An episode of maritime tales

Totally Made Up Tales

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Our first episode of tales set at sea and among sea-going folk: The Captain's Log, The Dark Gentleman, and other stories. Music: Creepy — Bensound.com.   James: Here are some totally made up tales brought to you by the magic of the internet. First this episode: The Captain's Log. James/Andrew (alternating) Once, the Captain was writing a log entry when he noticed out the window that there was another ship following them. That seemed strange, because no one had charted these waters before him. He did what he would normally do when sighting another ship: he wrote down its bearing and approximate distance, and ordered the bosun to raise more sail in order to get distance between them. After darkness had fallen, they changed course in order to lose them. Sailing in the darkness by dead of night, a ship felt like a world of its own. Gliding nearly silently through the black waters, crested with a rime of white catching the moonlight, the crew spoke softly in case they should be overheard by any other beings. Sunrise brought a fresh breeze and no sign of the ship, but that very evening it appeared once more. At dusk it was gaining on them, but once darkness fell they changed course to avoid them. Sunrise came again and brought an empty horizon. The third night a hush descended on the ship. You could hear a pin drop. From astern there came the sound of a woman crying. Her sobs rended the hearts of the men, so much was it a call to their own loneliness. "Beware!" cried the Captain. "'Tis a sprite!" But the men paid no heed, tacked the ship towards the sobbing, and tried to rescue her. One by one, they jumped into the water over the rail. One by one, they swam towards the heart-rending sound. And one by one, their sounds faded into nothingness. Finally only the Captain and the First Mate remained on the ship. "Don't you go in," said the Captain, but too late. Come morning the boat was full of men once more — climbing up the mast, hanging from the spars, and scrubbing the deck. The Captain looked around in great surprise. Returning to his cabin, he made an entry in the log reading: July Fourteenth. The crew have been replaced by fairies. God have mercy on my soul. Seventeen years later, the floating hull was discovered by a Royal Navy vessel, which determined that the boat had been abandoned, and all aboard had perished.  They found the Captain's log, the final entry still wet.   James: Chase … Andrew: Away … James: Your … Andrew: Demons … James: By … Andrew: Going … James: To … Andrew: Sea.   James: Make … Andrew: Biscuits … James: Using … Andrew: Flour … James: And … Andrew: Weevils … James: They'll … Andrew: Taste … James: Crunchy … Andrew: And … James: Delicious.   Andrew: Damp … James: Will … Andrew: Get … James: Everywhere … Andrew: When … James: You … Andrew: Are … James: At … Andrew: Sea. That wasn't really a proverb; that was just a fact. James: It was just a statement of fact.   Andrew: Rum … James: And … Andrew: Sodomy … James: Neither … Andrew: Are … James: Welcome … Andrew: In … James: My … Andrew: Navy. James: Rum and sodomy. I mean it's really just the Georgian Navy's equivalent of 'Netflix and Chill.'   Setting … Andrew: Sail … James: From … Andrew: Southampton … James: We … Andrew: Encountered … James: Three … Andrew: Witches … James: Floating … Andrew: On … James: The … Andrew: Surface … James: Of … Andrew: The … James: Sea. Andrew: One … James: Told … Andrew: Us … James: That … Andrew: Our … James: Voyage … Andrew: Would … James: Be … Andrew: Successful. James: One … Andrew: Told … James: Us … Andrew: That … James: Our … Andrew: Voyage … James: Would … Andrew: Be … James: Traumatic. Andrew: The … James: Third … Andrew: Told … James: us … Andrew: That … James: Our … Andrew: Voyage … James: Would … Andrew: Be … James: Long. Andrew: Which … James: Witch … Andrew: Was … James: Telling … Andrew: The … James: Truth?   And now: The Dark Gentleman.   Andrew/James (alternating): The morning of the ninth day of the month of May, the ship broke free of its mooring, and started to float towards the mouth of the harbour. Aboard was a distinguished gentleman, who was known throughout the land as a practitioner of the Dark Arts. He had a small moustache and black hair, an avuncular face but long talon-like fingers. He had paid for a cabin across the Atlantic Ocean. The men muttered amongst themselves superstitiously, but accepted his presence since their pay had been raised thanks to his generosity. He intended to spend the voyage shut in his room reading about the newest discoveries in the occult realm. His colleagues in the New World were anxious that he should be ready to assist in their Great Endeavour upon his arrival. His routine was to rise at dawn, read a paper from his colleagues and pray for safe weather to his guardian demons. After breakfast he would jog around the poop deck before settling down into another book. So passed the many hours and days at sea, until on the thirtieth day of the voyage a cry was raised by the lookout. "Ship astern!" There was a black sailed ship some half mile off, emerging from a mist. The Captain immediately summoned the officers, and the Dark Gentleman. "I fear that we are being tracked by pirates. We must load the cannon and prepare to defend ourselves." "Or," said the Dark Man, "we could simply repel them using…" And here he trailed off, and suggestively made a twirling shape with his fingers. The Captain was a practical man and didn't think that this would work, but gave it the go ahead anyway while preparing the cannon. The magician sat cross legged on the fore deck, surrounded by his Dark Objects. He lit a candle, made a sacrifice of his own blood, and started chanting in runic verse. The cannon was loaded, and the Captain ordered it pointed at the vessel gaining fast on them. Before he could fire the other vessel caught fire and burned to the water line. The Captain looked in astonishment and gasped. "What did you do?" The magician did not respond, but packed his Dark Objects away into his special chest, smiled, and descended back to his cabin. The crew grumbled once more. Later that day, the Captain ventured to the cabin of the Dark Master, and knocked. "Come," came a voice. "I've been wondering what —" "Yes," said the magician. "They came, of course, for me. I am the only man who knows how to unlock the magic of the Philosopher's Stone. One of my brethren in the New World has discovered such a Stone — or so he thinks — and I am heading to help him create unlimited wealth for all humankind. What will the pirates do now that gold will be valueless? Ah! That is why they want to kill me," explained the magician. "They cannot comprehend the enormity, or the wonder, of this discovery. I'm afraid that we will have to part ways at this juncture." So the magician folded his hands, lowered his gaze, and vanished. The End.   James: I'm James, and I'm here with Andrew. These stories were recorded without advanced planning and then lightly edited for the discerning listeners. Join us next time for more totally made up tales. We set out one morning from Southampton. Three witches on the water, oh aye. Oh the three witches of the Isle of White, the three witches of White … Andrew: Who've all been … The White Witches. James: The White Witches. What'll they tell you then? They said that our journey would be long and arduous but successful. Oh that's not bad. Told us it would be full of fire and brimstone, and that we'd all die. Oh. That's more specific than they usually are. Yeah, yeah. We're going home now. Andrew: I thought the third witch was going to say both of them are lying or something like two of us are lying. James: Oh yes. It's… oh, gosh. Two of us are lying. Well she has to tell the truth then 'cause otherwise it's a logical thing isn't it? Andrew: Unless all three of them were lying. James: Or all … Yes. Or one of them was lying. Andrew: Her. James: Her. Or she was an inconsistent narrator. Which would be a bigger problem.
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Our first episode of tales set at sea and among sea-going folk: The Captain's Log, The Dark Gentleman, and other stories. Music: Creepy — Bensound.com.   James: Here are some totally made up tales brought to you by the magic of the internet. First this episode: The Captain's Log. James/Andrew (alternating) Once, the Captain was writing a log entry when he noticed out the window that there was another ship following them. That seemed strange, because no one had charted these waters before him. He did what he would normally do when sighting another ship: he wrote down its bearing and approximate distance, and ordered the bosun to raise more sail in order to get distance between them. After darkness had fallen, they changed course in order to lose them. Sailing in the darkness by dead of night, a ship felt like a world of its own. Gliding nearly silently through the black waters, crested with a rime of white catching the moonlight, the crew spoke softly in case they should be overheard by any other beings. Sunrise brought a fresh breeze and no sign of the ship, but that very evening it appeared once more. At dusk it was gaining on them, but once darkness fell they changed course to avoid them. Sunrise came again and brought an empty horizon. The third night a hush descended on the ship. You could hear a pin drop. From astern there came the sound of a woman crying. Her sobs rended the hearts of the men, so much was it a call to their own loneliness. "Beware!" cried the Captain. "'Tis a sprite!" But the men paid no heed, tacked the ship towards the sobbing, and tried to rescue her. One by one, they jumped into the water over the rail. One by one, they swam towards the heart-rending sound. And one by one, their sounds faded into nothingness. Finally only the Captain and the First Mate remained on the ship. "Don't you go in," said the Captain, but too late. Come morning the boat was full of men once more — climbing up the mast, hanging from the spars, and scrubbing the deck. The Captain looked around in great surprise. Returning to his cabin, he made an entry in the log reading: July Fourteenth. The crew have been replaced by fairies. God have mercy on my soul. Seventeen years later, the floating hull was discovered by a Royal Navy vessel, which determined that the boat had been abandoned, and all aboard had perished.  They found the Captain's log, the final entry still wet.   James: Chase … Andrew: Away … James: Your … Andrew: Demons … James: By … Andrew: Going … James: To … Andrew: Sea.   James: Make … Andrew: Biscuits … James: Using … Andrew: Flour … James: And … Andrew: Weevils … James: They'll … Andrew: Taste … James: Crunchy … Andrew: And … James: Delicious.   Andrew: Damp … James: Will … Andrew: Get … James: Everywhere … Andrew: When … James: You … Andrew: Are … James: At … Andrew: Sea. That wasn't really a proverb; that was just a fact. James: It was just a statement of fact.   Andrew: Rum … James: And … Andrew: Sodomy … James: Neither … Andrew: Are … James: Welcome … Andrew: In … James: My … Andrew: Navy. James: Rum and sodomy. I mean it's really just the Georgian Navy's equivalent of 'Netflix and Chill.'   Setting … Andrew: Sail … James: From … Andrew: Southampton … James: We … Andrew: Encountered … James: Three … Andrew: Witches … James: Floating … Andrew: On … James: The … Andrew: Surface … James: Of … Andrew: The … James: Sea. Andrew: One … James: Told … Andrew: Us … James: That … Andrew: Our … James: Voyage … Andrew: Would … James: Be … Andrew: Successful. James: One … Andrew: Told … James: Us … Andrew: That … James: Our … Andrew: Voyage … James: Would … Andrew: Be … James: Traumatic. Andrew: The … James: Third … Andrew: Told … James: us … Andrew: That … James: Our … Andrew: Voyage … James: Would … Andrew: Be … James: Long. Andrew: Which … James: Witch … Andrew: Was … James: Telling … Andrew: The … James: Truth?   And now: The Dark Gentleman.   Andrew/James (alternating): The morning of the ninth day of the month of May, the ship broke free of its mooring, and started to float towards the mouth of the harbour. Aboard was a distinguished gentleman, who was known throughout the land as a practitioner of the Dark Arts. He had a small moustache and black hair, an avuncular face but long talon-like fingers. He had paid for a cabin across the Atlantic Ocean. The men muttered amongst themselves superstitiously, but accepted his presence since their pay had been raised thanks to his generosity. He intended to spend the voyage shut in his room reading about the newest discoveries in the occult realm. His colleagues in the New World were anxious that he should be ready to assist in their Great Endeavour upon his arrival. His routine was to rise at dawn, read a paper from his colleagues and pray for safe weather to his guardian demons. After breakfast he would jog around the poop deck before settling down into another book. So passed the many hours and days at sea, until on the thirtieth day of the voyage a cry was raised by the lookout. "Ship astern!" There was a black sailed ship some half mile off, emerging from a mist. The Captain immediately summoned the officers, and the Dark Gentleman. "I fear that we are being tracked by pirates. We must load the cannon and prepare to defend ourselves." "Or," said the Dark Man, "we could simply repel them using…" And here he trailed off, and suggestively made a twirling shape with his fingers. The Captain was a practical man and didn't think that this would work, but gave it the go ahead anyway while preparing the cannon. The magician sat cross legged on the fore deck, surrounded by his Dark Objects. He lit a candle, made a sacrifice of his own blood, and started chanting in runic verse. The cannon was loaded, and the Captain ordered it pointed at the vessel gaining fast on them. Before he could fire the other vessel caught fire and burned to the water line. The Captain looked in astonishment and gasped. "What did you do?" The magician did not respond, but packed his Dark Objects away into his special chest, smiled, and descended back to his cabin. The crew grumbled once more. Later that day, the Captain ventured to the cabin of the Dark Master, and knocked. "Come," came a voice. "I've been wondering what —" "Yes," said the magician. "They came, of course, for me. I am the only man who knows how to unlock the magic of the Philosopher's Stone. One of my brethren in the New World has discovered such a Stone — or so he thinks — and I am heading to help him create unlimited wealth for all humankind. What will the pirates do now that gold will be valueless? Ah! That is why they want to kill me," explained the magician. "They cannot comprehend the enormity, or the wonder, of this discovery. I'm afraid that we will have to part ways at this juncture." So the magician folded his hands, lowered his gaze, and vanished. The End.   James: I'm James, and I'm here with Andrew. These stories were recorded without advanced planning and then lightly edited for the discerning listeners. Join us next time for more totally made up tales. We set out one morning from Southampton. Three witches on the water, oh aye. Oh the three witches of the Isle of White, the three witches of White … Andrew: Who've all been … The White Witches. James: The White Witches. What'll they tell you then? They said that our journey would be long and arduous but successful. Oh that's not bad. Told us it would be full of fire and brimstone, and that we'd all die. Oh. That's more specific than they usually are. Yeah, yeah. We're going home now. Andrew: I thought the third witch was going to say both of them are lying or something like two of us are lying. James: Oh yes. It's… oh, gosh. Two of us are lying. Well she has to tell the truth then 'cause otherwise it's a logical thing isn't it? Andrew: Unless all three of them were lying. James: Or all … Yes. Or one of them was lying. Andrew: Her. James: Her. Or she was an inconsistent narrator. Which would be a bigger problem.
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