. . . Gazing through the glass at the fantastic apparition I wondered for a moment if the wild incantations I had been reading had somehow effected my senses. Then it occurred to me that I had gotten quite carried away with the joy of being able to read elaborate passages in such strange phrasings far more easily than my normal ability to translate and had ignored the content of my utterances. What exactly had I said? I was unsure of all but a few bizarre phrases. Had adrenaline gotten the best of me? I opened the port hole for a better view, for confirmation that the phantom vessel was not a trick of my imagination. No breeze blew in through the opened port hole, and no sound met my ears. Yet I saw the ship emerging from the spectral mist most definitely. Moreover its course would bring it closer, indeed it was moving directly toward our ship. I rubbed my eyes but the vision persisted and it drifted ever closer in smooth silence a few feet above the sea. As it approached I observed that there was no one on its decks, what little there was left of them for it was revealed as a derelict in the worst condition. Huge sections of the hull were missing and many of its holds and cabins gaped open to the elements. From somewhere within a light shone but I was unable to determine the source. It was as if the entire inside of the ship was aglow with an eerie golden light. That radiance poured out through the myriad of holes large and small that peppered the entire ship. I watched the sails billowing as if filled with a steady wind. Nearer she came, still without a sound. Then the thought crossed my awed mind that whoever stood watch was surely seeing this as well and could confirm that I was not in the embrace of delusions of delirium. Leaving my cabin I heard the loud snores of the captain from his quarters. In fact all the crew were asleep, but not in their bunks. I had to step over many in the narrow hallway for it was as if they had passed out and fallen right where they sat, or even stood. Climbing passed one crewman on the stairs I finally made my way up and outside. A quick glance around told me there was but one watch, but even he was unconscious on the deck near the wheel. Try as I might, I was unable to arouse him; too deep was his slumber. Then I turned my sight to the west. The night was so dead still that even in the crow's nest the flame of a taper would stand up straight unflickering. Yet as I looked out over the rail at that ghostly craft I was suddenly bathed in an air blasphemously fetid which had me instantly retching with violent spasms. So foul was the stench with death and decay it did poison me to the core and all my senses went reeling out of control. I could barely maintain consciousness as the world spun about me - the deck, the stars, the blur of that cursed ship, the railing, and then falling for what seemed an eternity. I heard a distant splash and experienced a curious, relaxing floating sensation . . . [Tomorrow, the conclusion of the tale of the Death Ship.]