Year 2183 of the Empire (since Foundation Year)
Year 979 of the Third Era of Empire (Dragonheart Line)
Lunae, the twenty-sixth day of First Seed
Afternoon
The fourth thing no sailor enjoys is sailing through thick fog. Most captains won't actually sail through it as it's simply too dangerous, particularly if it's fog so thick, from where I stand on the quarterdeck, I can't even see the bow of the ship. The fog descended during early dawn, and by the time the sun should have appeared on the horizon, we were enveloped in a fog so thick, I'm sure men were praying to the Five. Again, sailors are a superstitious bunch, and fog could be interpreted as a bad sign of things to come.
I ordered the dropping of anchor once it was clear the fog wouldn't clear. We might have been sailing the middle of an enormous ocean, but after our run in with the Batarians, and what we'd been told, there was now a chance we'd run into other ships. Land itself was still miles away, and we had since changed direction, heading south-west. The winds were not yet favourable. Once anchor was dropped because of the fog, we lit lamps and placed those around the ship, while small bells were placed at bow, the sides, and stern, to hopefully warn of anything approaching that we were there. I thought the chances of meeting anyone was minimal, but I wasn't prepared to take the risk. At least, I wasn't yet.
Since there was little any of us could do, I figured it was a good time to update my log and diary, and share other things that I might not have thought of to share. First and foremost, this was a ship of over four hundred people. Many have their stories to share. A few are much closer to me than others. After filling in the usual details, I focused on other matters:
*****
One person I've rarely mentioned during would be Samantha Traynor. It's been amusing watching this polite, friendly civilian gain her sea legs. Her first couple of days at sea, approaching the reef and then passing through it, passed without incident. She was a bit woozy at times, but with calm seas, it didn't take her long to find equilibrium. She was excited as the rest of us when we broke out into open sea, and our working relationship quickly established itself, though to be honest, sometimes I did find it difficult to find jobs for her, as I'm quite happy taking care of my own things. Often I would have her simply liaise between myself and other officer's, taking care of all the administration required. She would gather reports from everyone so I could fill in the ship's log, though there was always paperwork that needed filing, ever more reports writing... It's amazing how much paper is kept, even on a warship. The only time she's struggled was during our first experience of a proper oceanic storm. But so did many others, and she continued to work diligently despite spending half her time with her head in a bucket.
Mister Taylor has proven to be a responsible, effective supervisor of the supply chain. He saved coin by striking numerous deals prior to our departure, and ensured we have more than enough supplies to last us at least a year at sea. In fact, I sometimes wonder if he didn't purchase too much, though I wouldn't complain about that. I'd rather have too much than not enough, particular regarding food and water. He has proven his experience as the 'man of supply' during our time at sea so far. Each and every day, he and his mate, Chambers, do a stock check, counting how many barrels and sacks of everything we need and what is remaining. My desk is already piled high with paperwork, filled from top to bottom with figures. He is particularly authoritative with his command of the supply chain, and will give nor ask any favour. He has a role and he is fulfilling it wonderfully well.
I must add that Mister Taylor is not the only coloured gentleman currently serving aboard the Normandy. I don't have an exact count but I believe there are at least twenty sailors of colour, all able or ordinary seaman at the moment, though I have heard talk that one or two may earn promotion during this expedition. I mention this as I have been heartened by the lack of negativity towards those who don't look exactly like us, nor lack of any incidents between the sailors. The Imperial Navy cares little for the colour of those who serve it, judging people on character and their value as a sailor rather than skin colour, and the Empire itself generally lives by those same ideals, but we have all read or heard of incidents that speak poorly of a few ignorant people within the borders of our Empire.
Chief Petty Officer, Master-at-Arms Aela Grettasdottir, convinced me during her interview that she would be the perfect sailor for the position, and by the Five, she has proven it quickly since our departure from Arcturus. She already commands the respect of all sailors who report to her, and her opinion in matters of discipline are readily listened to by those she in turn reports to. She is diligent, effective, and a credit to this ship, her uniform, and this crew. I only wish I could mould her and have another half a dozen of someone like her. Not only does she already command respect from the crew, and ensure discipline is maintained, but she is also popular. Even during the incident involving Sister Laetitia, and the Able Seaman Jones requiring punishment, the crew understood her role and the fact discipline had to be maintained, and that the punishment handed out was just. It was the only time I was concerned that the crew would turn on her, but they exceeded my expectations in how they understood. Maybe I underestimate even the common sailor at times.
I won't lie and say the sailors work without complaint. They complain nearly every shift about something. The cramped conditions. The food, which I believe is much better than normal. The wet. The damp. At least it's not too cold. The smell is horrendous down below, but the average sailor quickly grows used to it. The men and women have faith, not only in the Five, but also in those who command them. Many know that death lingers close over their shoulder, watching and waiting to snatch their life. It's not something they think about, or at least they try not to, but it's a presence they sometimes feel, particularly when battle nears. As requested, most are single, without families waiting for their return in Arcturus. That does not mean we will waste their lives, but it will prevent the heartache and sense of loss those left behind might feel if this all goes tragically wrong.
Finally, I must speak of the Normandy itself. The captain, his officers, and the crew, eventually grow to love their vessel, and it is already obvious the Normandy has her own character and personality. The way she rides the waves. The noises she makes. She is our home. She is our protector. And I know the men and women currently aboard her would give their lives to ensure her safe return to the Empire. I give thanks to the Emperor and the Five for allowing me to command her. It is an honour that simple thanks does not seem to suffice. She has already proven to be a remarkable vessel, having seen us through storms and combat with barely a scratch. It is my solemn vow that I will return her home, and can only hope that I will remain her commander for years to come.
Captain John Shepard
Imperial Navy, in service to Emperor Uhtred VIII
26.3.2138
*****
Wandering back outside, the thick seemed to even thicker than before. The lack of noise would have been disconcerting at any other time, but I knew the crew below were quieter than normal due to a possibly growing fear. That was something watch officers would have to keep a handle of. Sailors hated not being able to see around them. It was particularly difficult when near the coastline and in rough seas, dreading your ship slamming into the rocks or ending up beached. More than one ship had ended up lost over the years in the fog and crashed, more than once into the reef that rings us. Even taking the greatest of precautions is sometimes not enough. Fate and the weather can be harsh mistresses.
"Ever experienced fog like this, Captain?" Miranda enquired.
"No, Lieutenant. This must be what one would experience on the open sea. Never seen it this thick before in my life. The fact we can barely see the bow..."
"I've experienced fog a few times. Once we were patrolling south-east, right by the reef. No more than a nautical mile or two. I came off watch, slept for five hours, yet by the time I returned, we couldn't see a thing. What was worse was that the wind picked up and we ended up blown right off course, and without being able to judge our position, as we didn't know what direction we were travelling, we simply had to drop anchor and drag the ship to a stop. When the fog finally lifted, we were no more than one hundred metres from the reef. Thankfully we were broadside to it. If we'd been pointing at it, I doubt we'd have been able to turn the ship without hitting it."
"Sometimes it takes more luck than skill to survive such events."
"I think we were all believers in the Five after that day. Only the gods and good luck prevented disaster."
We did a couple of tours around the deck, from stern to bow. Bells would be rung every couple of minutes to give away our position. I know the men to the side of the deck would be most concerned about a ship suddenly appearing out of the gloom. Being hit in the front or rear would cause damage, but it's easily survivable. Being hit in the side was something every sailor feared, particularly if hit at speed while stationary. It was particularly galling as these sorts of accident would be between ships from the Empire, and would be embarrassing to both captains. I'd only read of two such incidents, but that didn't stop the fear of it happening to us right now.
