The Letters of a Lost Mariner

What follows is an interesting selection of letters found in the Royal Archives of London. I was doing research regarding maritime folklore and legends and stumbled across this gem. The account is of a British frigate, the HMS Hector which was lost during a great hurricane. The ship was participating in the War of Austrian Succession and set sail in 1739 with a British fleet to the Caribbean. 

After the storm she appears to have been hopelessly lost. The account is written by the ship's purser (a position I was not familiar with). Apparently, the purser is the one who keeps charge of the accounts, spare clothes and the victuals. This position is not a professional military rank but they do report directly to the captain. The purser's name was Malcom Watson, a poor sea man from Inverness. I couldn’t find much information on him other than his naval service. His letters are addressed to his brother Conrad, who seemed to have some issue about his going off to sea. 

I will start with the October 8th account as it is the start of the bad luck for HMS Hector and her crew. 

October 8th, 1739 AD

You will not believe the storm we rode out last night. The water rose around us like a wall, enveloping us and nearly destroying the Hector. I thought for sure we would topple and see our maker. But somehow providence prevailed and we were saved. Our foremast snapped, and we are also unsure of what heading we are currently on. The fleet that we were part of has vanished, as if a cyclone had picked us up and dropped us onto a different sea.

Mr. Barnes believes this was foretold by the rustling of gulls we saw the morning before the storm. I did not believe such omens but now I am not as sure. Mr. Stuart wondered if this was the work of some Spanish witch in the Caribbean, summoning a storm to set us off course.

I cannot say I believe such wild tales. What I do know is that the compass is not working, but this is not unusual. I have faith that Captain McDonald will be able to find the fleet again. I must confess though, I do worry about the victuals if we don’t find some kind of land.

Your loving brother,

Malcom

October 15th

Brother,

I know we have had our differences in the past, but I miss you greatly; I miss Inverness and the rolling hills. We have been adrift for days now. Slowly running out of food as I remind the captain. No land in sight. I honestly do not know how we could have been so blown off course, as far as I knew we were close to the Caribbean. We have been using dead reckoning since the compass refuses to work. We saw a flock of sea birds yesterday and made the decision to follow their course, as there must be land wherever they are heading.

Last night our nightwatchmen told a story I think you would be interested in. In a dense fog, the man claims to have seen a ship, however it was not sailing on the water parallel to us, but inside the mist itself, nearly as high as the topsail! He called out to the ship but there was no response. In the blink of an eye he claims the ship was enveloped in the fog and the fog began to break. It was as if the ship had brought the fog with it. Aye, a genuine ghost ship, it was decided by all who heard the tale.

I am not sure if I can believe such things as a good Christian man, but it is becoming harder and harder to ignore that we are Jonahs out here, cursed men.

Hopefully the next few days will bring us some relief. I worry daily, nay, hourly about our water supply. Please give my love to Mother and pray for us. This will serve as my final letters to you if we never find a ship to carry these letters. I love you brother and I am sorry for any past offenses.

Your loving brother and son,

Malcom.

October 19th

By the grace of God, we live! Despite all the talks of curses and ghost ships and devils following us we have found land! Though I must admit a general feeling of unease remains among the crew due to several of the dark events I am writing to you about.

We found an island, seemingly smack in the middle of the ocean. It has a towering spire of a mountain at the center and lush green vegetation. We were able to land using our smaller long boats and fill up our fresh water from a stream running through the island. At first it seemed like paradise as there were also wild pigs for us to eat.

The first night though we saw shadows marching with torches on the beaches of the island, menacing in the darkness of the night. Many of our men had wanted to camp out at the beach but luckily our Captain refused their proposal, as those men would surely not have returned.

We shot a broadside at the beach, to frighten away the natives, but it seemed to have no effect. They would not flee, and remained in a perfect row with their torches lit in the darkness. Several of our men with the spyglass could see that their clothing was not that of a native, but they had hats and coats as ourselves.

Mr. Barnes said they were the spirits of drowned seamen, and the way they did not move or flinch at the broadside, I am inclined to believe it may even be true.

They vanished sometime in the night. No one saw them march back into the forest, the nightly mist (which we are now accustomed to) came up around the hull of the ship, spreading to the top masts and then they were gone.

The next morning we fired another broadside at the beach, to try and scare anyone away from molesting our shore parties. I stayed aboard, writing these strange events to you and in the ship's accounts.

I fear this island may be our grave and not quite the savior we hoped for. I hope we will find a ship soon to give these letters to. I will continue to write them as they are strangely helpful to me. Perhaps if we die out here and someone finds the ship they will at least know what we have been through.

Your brother,

Malcom

October 29th,

To anyone who may find these letters, today I went ashore on that accursed island for the first time since we landed. I had spent most of my time below decks with my account books and my copy of Robinson Crusoe. How I wish our island was like his and not this damned place.

Still I cannot deny that going ashore was in  some ways refreshing. The jungle here is dense and deep. The pinnacle mountain at the center of the island is still a mystery to me, it looks like a giant spike growing up out of the center of the island. Some sailors have taken to calling it ‘the Devil’s claw’.

After helping our land party gather more water, we searched the island to try and find more of its secrets. Here we found something interesting.

Closer to the rocky summit of the Devil’s claw we found a makeshift camp, made of old pinnace and several clearly European supplies. Muskets, flints, some old books and even an old coat. No signs of any remains or life. Where did these shipwrecked men go?

We sailed the island the day after this to try and find any trace of a ship that had perhaps crashed into the shores of the island, but found nothing. There are dangerous shoals on several other parts of the island so we could easily see how a crew may have been stranded.

We had several nights without the menacing fog and have not seen the procession of men with torches again either.

What we did hear however was strange loud noises. I cannot even put into words the sounds we heard; they were inhuman, and I have nothing on this earth to compare them to. It was as if the island was howling at us, beckoning us to leave.

The next day we returned to the foothills of the Devil’s claw and in a small cave someone found a most disturbing looking place. I was not with the group that found this but they reported to have seen an altar of sorts built into a cave. The altar they say was of stone and bone and near it they found a large old tome. The book was made of old cracked leather and had a pentagram inside some of its pages. The thing is impossible to look upon as a good Christian without some disgust.

Unfortunately, being the purser and probably best read person on the ship, the captain ordered me to look over this dark book and try and decipher anything I can. One of the back pages has something that looks to be directs with latitudes. I believe the Captain thinks this wretched book will in some way help us get home, but I cannot read the writing at all.

It is nothing like I have seen before. The writing (or what appears to be writing) is in strange symbols, circles and exes and other things that I know not what they are.

There are also drawings in the book of creatures of the devil. Strange dragon looking serpents and devils with wings. I swear the longer I look at this book the more strange and disturbing things I find. I hate this thing. Anyone who finds this after me should burn it.

Captain McDonald tried to hide the existence of the altar and the book, lest the superstitious seamen begin telling more stories, and god knows there is plenty of that going on. Word got out though. The Captain even moved me to one of the ensigns’ quarters where I now have my own room. The cabin is extremely small and aside from my hammock and desk I have room for little else. Still, I suppose I should not complain as I was sleeping amongst the men in their hammocks before. At least I now have some privacy away from the tales the men are telling out there.

November 4th

I am shaking as I write this. For the last several days now there have been reports of a man in black, roaming the decks of the Hector at night. I saw the apparition itself when I was walking along the gun deck at night to relieve myself.

The apparition was all in black and scurried up the ladder to the main deck. It moved like a shadow, faster than any man I have ever seen. The rest of the men were sleeping in their cots and did not see it. When I ascended up the ladder to the main deck, I looked everywhere and could not find the shadow.

If it was just my account I would dismiss it as lights and shadows, but multiple reports of a man in black or shadow moving below deck and above have been reported. One person even saw a man in black enter the captain’s cabin. When he rushed to ask for the man's name, he had vanished.

Some see a shadow like I saw, others see a fully formed man in a tricorn hat and black coat, with a scarf covering most of his face. Who this man is we cannot say, but he did not appear among us until the devilish tome was brought aboard.

I am convinced the two are connected. I brought this up to the Captain when last we spoke, but he dismissed it out of hand.

Before, the evil had always been out there on the island and the wastes of the oceans, but now it is here among us!

I cower in my quarters, the door barred. I hope and pray I will be safe here in my little wooden cave in the bowls of the ship. The creaking of the ship drowns out the miserable noises outside.

November 6th

The more I look at this book the more I wonder what lies within the island. On page 59 of the tome there is a large drawing of the island with what seems to be a map of a cavernous tunnel system in the island that even extends into the Devil’s claw. It appears that there are even strange rooms. If only I could read this thing!

I showed this to the Captain and he is now setting up an expedition to try and enter some of these caverns. I do worry that he might be going mad. Our ship is repaired and there is no reason to remain here, but he seems intensely interested in this place.

The other night we saw an enormous serpent coiled near one of the cliffs of the island. We estimated it to be nearly one hundred feet long.

Like all sailors, I have heard stories of enormous serpents but seeing one filled me with awe and terror! The moonlight showed us its scaley body and its head was long like a horse and it had several fins along its long-coiled body. It was around a rock at first and then cast off into the water, creating large waves. I am convinced that if it wanted to, it could attack and destroy the ship.

I have seen Leviathan, and he was massive. We have only God to thank that the beast took off away from our ship. The Captain ordered another broadside to try and scare it, but it was already gone at that point, moving extraordinarily fast in the water.

November 17th

So much has happened over the last few days, I struggle to write it all down for posterity. Brother, I hope you will have a chance to read this, but I fear I will not escape this island. The Hector will be my floating tomb, until it rots and sinks to Davey Jones’ locker.

The Captain continued his thoughts of exploring the caves around the Devil’s claw. Why I have no idea. He finally listened to some sense and sent his Lieutenant instead of himself with a party of ten.

I had to once again go ashore, carrying the devil tome. The Captain had me copy on a separate parchment the map in the tome of the underground cave system. I copied them best I could, trying to directly trace it whenever possible.

We searched around the stone foothills of the Devil’s Claw, trying to match the cave entrance with the one from the tome. We finally found one of the entrances as the mouth of the cave resembled that of a skull. Vegetation had covered most of the upper section of the skull features but once we uncovered it we could see the piercing eyes very clearly.

We debated whether or not the skull was a natural look of the cave or if it had been carved; altered to look more like a skull. I believe the entrance had to have been carved to better make it stand out as an entrance.

I said a prayer for the company as they descended into the mouth of the cave, like they were going to Hades itself.

The Captain spoke privately to the Lieutenant before he began his journey into the abyss. What was he asking him I wonder? I know the Captain to be a good Englishman but I can’t help but question his curiosity for the caves.

I showed the Captain the images of the creatures in the tome. The subterranean dragons and serpents, but he was disinterested, calling it old fables.

The party did not return for nearly an entire day. We began shouting into the caves and made a fire within the foyer of the cave so they could see it. Finally, as night began to fall, we had to return to the ship and try again tomorrow. A small group of men volunteered to stay in the mouth of the cave and tend to the fire while the rest of us returned. The Captain volunteered to remain.

I was terrified of possibly spending the night on the island. We hurried to the longboat, fearing we would see the ghostly procession of torches behind us as the light faded. We also knew the Leviathan was out there and knew a creature of that size could easily destroy our longboat and devour us. By God, we made it safely, but just barely, as the waves began to pick up and some men on the Hector say they saw the beastly serpent again. It luckily was not headed towards us. One man, Mr. Hands, nearly fell from the longboat.

That night we hunkered down, praying for those who stayed ashore. All night I heard heavy footsteps throughout the gundeck. Every part of my being believed it was the man in black, roaming the ship.

The next morning I found the men gathered on the main deck around Mr. Barnes, who told a frightful story of the night. He had seen the tall man in black while he was on watch. Mr. Barnes was in the crow’s nest when he saw the huge hulking man standing at the quarterdeck. He called out to the man but there was no response. With pistol loaded, he scurried down to meet the man, who was still there. As Barnes approached the man a wave of fear enveloped him. The man was very tall; he estimated nearly seven feet.

‘Aye, who are you and what are you doing here?’ Barnes asked the man. The man was staring out at the water and did not react.

‘Death comes to all,’ Barnes heard. The voice was deep and rumbling and felt closer to him than the man in black, but he assumed it was the man in black.

In fear, Barnes raised his pistol but the flint did not spark when he pulled the trigger.

The man turned slowly and stared down at Barnes with eyes so dark Barnes felt he had fallen into a dark abyss. He passed out and woke up some time later shivering on the deck on his back. The man was gone and all that was left was the chill of the night air.

Branes had more flair and detail telling the story than I could. Some disbelieved him due to his superstitious nature, but having heard multiple reports of the man in black and heard those creaking footsteps on the deck, I believe him.

We readied the longboat to return to the cave and fetch the Captain. The Master Commander Jacob Llewellyn was now in command with the Captain away. Llewellyn is a Welshman who is much more of a levelheaded man than the captain; at least I believe, if only based on his actions from that moment forward.

I handed out extra coats and blankets before we embarked, as it was now very cold, much colder than any of the men who had previously been to the Caribbean knew it to be. As we trudged through the jungle, we felt uneasy, as if we were being watched from behind the trees and vegetation. One man claimed he saw a face peering at us from behind a bush. Llewellyn had some men check and be sure we were not being followed, but no one turned up.

When we got to the cave it was emitting a cold wind, a dark omen of what was to follow. We called out the name of our comrades again, but none approached. Inside the cave was bare. The fire was out and there was no sign of the captain or the crew. We called again and again, took torches and went into the mouth of the cave, calling for our men, hearing only our voices echoing in return. The Commander did not want us to go too far and had us in teams. I would not enter the cave; I stayed in the foyer of the cave tending to the fire.

We searched all day and even had someone return to the ship with some rope and tied the search parties together so that no one would be lost. The last search party returned with tales of strange noises, echoes of inhuman sounds emanating from the cave. They refused to enter the cave again.

The Commander called off the search for the day and stated that we would return for the next three days and make a fire outside the cave. He instructed that no group would enter the cave again as it was too dangerous.

On the last day someone had finally returned from the darkness of the cave! We were ecstatic to see someone. It was a seaman named Samuel. I did not know him very well, but what I knew of the man was that he was not one to tell stories, certainly not of the ones he shared with us. He would not speak until we had him back on the Hector. He refused to stay anywhere near the cave. All he would tell us was that he was the only survivor he knew of and that the captain had surely perished.

I am shaking as I write this, as it is not only disturbing but at this very moment, I hear the man in black roaming the decks of the ship! I have the door barred but I hear his loud footsteps. I fear what he portents and what he is. It has been generally agreed that he is a manifestation of the Devil himself, come to claim our souls!

 As I said, the door is barred, and I must tell this story. The Lieutenant whose quarter I now reside in was one of those who went missing, so I at least have the good fortune to keep this cabin for the remainder of the voyage. I know not how the men sleeping in open cots can stand hearing such things! Barnes told me he stuffs cotton in his ears and holds his Bible close to his chest when he sleeps. I know others do this now too.

Back to the story of what seaman Samuel saw. He was part of the first party with the Lieutenant. He said they traveled down into a mighty chasm deep into the earth. Below them was magma and several lands above connected by a stone bridge! Was this hell itself? He (and I) wonder. The magma was hot, nearly too much to bear. But they went into another passageway away from the chasm, deeper and deeper they went, many of them knew in their hearts they should turn back but curiosity (and maybe some other dark force) drove them forward. They began to hear noises like those heard by some of the rescue teams. Deep breathing and growls. At some point they heard screaming! Desperate screams from a dark abyss over a vast never ending cliff face in the stone corridors of the earth. They were convinced this dark abyss led to hell itself. One man dropped a torch to see how deep the abyss was and the torch fell until the light was slowly enveloped by blackness.

Their senses returned to them and they began to make their way out, as far from the abyss as they could, but their torches were slowly dying. In the mass exodus several men had been left behind and were never seen again. Those who made it back to the great chasm lit some of the extra torches (using the magma as their source to do so) and continued on, however they found that the path they had come from was no longer open. The tunnel was closed! The stone bridge now led to just more stone walls and they were forced to go out of their way to find another passage, trying to choose whichever path seemed to be ascending rather than descending.

They ate their last rations and decided they had to rest, even though few could sleep in such a dark and forsaken place. When Samuel awoke, half of their party was gone. They called their names and backtracked the tunnel some ways, but it was no use. They were now down to five. The Lieutenant was one of those who vanished that night.

Finding the tunnel to be hopeless they returned once again to the magma chasm, for they at least knew that was a good starting point. Thinking that they may have just mistaken where they came in, and that the pathway they originally entered was still there.

They went back to the chasm and searched the walls again, again crossing the stone bridge, which this time they noticed had strange symbols on the pavement.

They found another passageway, closer to where they thought the first one was (or at least hoped) but as they entered it they heard a loud hissing sound, like the one they had heard throughout their journey. Some ignored it but others, like Samuel himself, noticed it echoed through the chasm. He looked up and saw a great serpent, coiled around a giant stalactite on the chasm ceiling! The beast had red piercing eyes that had found them. With its large, forked tongue it hissed at them, this time all saw the beast and began to flee as quickly as they could.

They heard the wyrm crash onto the ground and heard it coming up the cavern towards them. One man turned to shoot at it but he shouted in pain and was never seen again. They ran endlessly. Samuel looked back only once, to see the red eyes in the darkness near the roof of the cave gaining on them. The creature was enormous, and several other men fell with a scream followed by silence. Samuel dropped his torch and kept fleeing. He did so until he collapsed.

The next part of Samuel’s story he fully admits was either a dream or a vision from God.

He awoke to find himself in a bright area. It was very large and once he could focus his vision he could see that he was in what appeared to be a large cathedral, with rows of stone pillars and benches on each side. He could hear Gregorian chanting low in the background. The pillars and seating seemed to extend endlessly into a white light in front of and behind him. To his right and left were large Gothic stained glass windows with images of the Savior on His cross and on the other side images of the Virgin Mary.

As he walked down the aisle towards what he imagined was the front of the church, a figure manifested out of the lightness.

Assuming it was our Lord Jesus he fell to his knees. Looking up, the figure was no longer surrounded by light but was now dressed like a man, in a long coat and seaman's hat.

He returned to his feet and approached with much caution. The figure turned slowly. He saw that it was the captain! Though he appeared several years younger, or perhaps his skin was just brighter.

‘Captain!’ he said, surprised. ‘Are we in Heaven?’

The Captain moved his lips to speak but Samuel heard nothing.

‘I can’t hear you,’ he pleaded with him.

The figure continued to speak but at no volume, then stopped and smiled eerily. Samuel said he knew at that moment it was not the Captain and his face transformed into that of the serpent with growing red eyes.

He turned and ran down the aisle. The church grew dark and blood red in color.

With this, Samuel awoke, but in total darkness. He felt his body to be sure he was not injured. Other than several cuts and scrapes, he was unhurt.  He climbed up in darkness, touching the wall like a blind man and cutting his hand many times on the stone ridged walls of the cave, till at last he heard our men calling and finally saw a light.

After hearing Samuel’s story, the Commander decided that we would stay one more day and then finally leave this accursed island.

A cheer broke out from the men when this was announced.

Like everyone else, I am excited that we are leaving. The compass apparently had begun to work again, and we are going to sail east and take the risk. It is unknown to me how long the compass has been working.

Samuel’s vision is disturbing and I fear it may portend that something dark was influencing the captain, but I cannot tell. Other than not allowing us to leave, the captain acted very bravely on all fronts and I am sad that he will remain missing at this place.

Hopefully I will see you soon brother.

November 26th

Dear Brother,

Our nightmare is hopefully over. We have come across another ship bound for the Americas on our way home to England, confirming we are nearly home. The darkness in our hearts begins to lift the closer we get to England.

The only thing that still troubles me is the man in black and this dark tome. I fear the two may be connected as the apparition did not appear until the tome was brought aboard.

Though I hate it, I do want to bring it to our cousin at Oxford. He might have some idea what it is and someone who might be able to read it, or at least recognize the language. I offered it to the Master Commander, but he wanted nothing to do with the book. No one else on board does either, it seems.

I still hear his footsteps at night sometimes, and last night when I was going to relieve myself I saw another black shadow on the quarterdeck. I looked away and kept going back to my cabin.

I hope that once I step foot in a Christian country again that the dark ghost will vanish.

I am no longer as skeptical as I once was brother, for I have seen and heard wonders of this world, and fear that there is much more darkness in the invisible world than I once thought.

I hope to see you soon, your loving brother,

Malcom.

That is the end of the letters. I tried to look for other records too, journals, letters of other men on board the HMS Hector. The official records say little about it other than it was a ship that was lost in a storm only to return to England late in 1739, so we know they did make it back to England. 

I tried to do more research on what happened to Malcom Watson who lived in Inverness around the 1730s and 1740s but there is not that much more. His name as well as his brother’s, Conrad, appear on the first national census in 1755, but there is little more personal writings of him. There is little to what he did after this journey, his profession on the census was listed as clergyman so he apparently became a man of the cloth. I couldn’t find any other information of what parish he served in though. His brother is listed as a cobbler. His naval service appears to have ended after his service on the HMS Hector as there is no further evidence of him serving on another naval vessel. 

I tried to look for his cousin who was in Oxford, however several different students with the last name Watson are listed. I tried to look at the Oxford archives to find any information on a tome brought to them in the 18th century, but no records mention it. We can’t be sure he was ever able to hand off the tome. 

I will keep looking for more answers, especially for some of the other journals. I would love to see the official log of the HMS Hector, especially the captain’s, but so far nothing has come up. The official record states that Captain McDonald was lost at sea but gives no information about the island or how he was lost.