Log of the Demeter, 2nd August, midnight. Woke up from few minutes sleep by hearing a cry seemingly outside my port. Could see nothing in fog. Rushed on deck. Ran against mate. Tells me he heard cry and ran, but no sign of man on watch. One more gone. Lord help us. Mate says we must be past Straits of Dover, as in a moment of fog lifting, he soared north for land, just as he heard the man cry out. If so...
We are now off in the North Sea, and only God can guide us in the fog. It seems to move with us, and God seems to have deserted us.
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