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The Cutter Urania
February 10, 1922
I've had a little time to recover since the Coast Guard Cutter Urania fished me
out of the sea. I'm still shaking, but no longer from cold. Although I can
think of a thousand better places to be, back in the freezing water isn't one
of them.
But then, neither is the place where I think this boat is headed.
The crew seem like a good bunch. Commander Winter, the first officer, has gone
out of his way to make sure I am well taken care of. They seem to have no idea
where we're going, or why.
I have my suspicions, and I hope to God I'm wrong. I guess I'll find out for
sure when I talk to Captain Hearst.
I don't know how much more I can take. Before today, I would never have
believed that a human mind could stand up to the things I've seen and what I've
been through. I should be insane; maybe I am.
I'm able to take some comfort in the fact that I'm still in one piece -
physically, at least. Maybe some deep-seated survival instinct is keeping me
going in spite of my weakening sanity.
Diary of One of the Crew
This isn't the usual kind of run - everybody says so. We've been running down rum runners for so long, it's easy to tell when things feel different.
Whatever's up, the Captain isn't telling. Maybe he has some kind of top-secret sealed orders, and we'll find out what our mission is when we arrive on station. Nobody's sure where we're going or why, but there's no shortage of rumors.
Where they don't like outsiders- that's a lot of the country around here, at least to this boy from the Bronx - but witches and weird cults? Salem was a long time ago.
Mind you, as I watch the coastline slide past, with the dark wood and dark little towns, I can almost catch myself believing him. New York harbor would sure be a welcome sight, if only for the change of scenery.
Well, it looks like a storm's blowing up - a proper New England nor-easter, so they say. I'd better get up on deck and see if I'm needed. Maybe that detective fellow we fished out of the water will know something.