Norfolk to Charleston (Day 4)

10/25

For this night’s log, the crew is challenged to write a spooky nightwatch story. Every hour, a new crew member will be awakened to attend to the duties of the ship and remain vigilant for the safety of all others; We call this an anchor watch. During this period of wakefulness, they will add to the tale where the one before left off. Read on to uncover what dreams have occurred tonight.

“Who’s there?” peeped the dawn-watch owl, startled by a midnight bump. He was checking the boat, as we do on the hour, when he heard a deep dark rumble from the bilge; “none but the cook, my dear. Rest easy now.”

“But, Cookie, where be your pots and pans?” piped the puzzled bird into the darkness. “I do wonder about our meals being prepared in such a dank tar-filled hole as this one.”

“My pots and pans are stored on the big blue shelf,” droned the voice. “Never to be seen again. There will be no more hot meals for the likes of you.”

Suddenly, the owl smelled a sweet scent traveling through the ship. “Cinnamon rolls,” the voice called. “Hidden for you, somewhere. Can you find them?”

They looked about the galley, they looked about the oven, but no sign of cinnamon rolls, and the oven was as cold as the night was dark. They searched for any dusting of flour about the galley, but the counters were antiseptically clean. A faint rattling was noted which was difficult to locate, but seemed to be coming from the escape hatch to the engine room. Was that a faint aroma of cinnamon they breathed in mixed with the diesel?

The sound of a coffee grinder also puzzled the owl. Cookie had told the crew that Snipes, the overlord of the engine room forbid the making coffee without his approval. There was no approval given by the overlord. And dawn-watch owl had never laid eyes on such an odd shaped coffee grinder. It was encrusted with barnacles and had an odd odor.