FLASH FICTION:PETERSON, THE cabin boy, peered despondently over the guard rail and out into the surrounding fog. Without averting his gaze, he addressed the first mate.

“When can we go home, Mr Dobson?”

“Now lad, I’ve told you before. The captain won’t steer for home until our hold is full with seal, and we can’t start sealing until the fog lifts.”

Before either of them could speak again, their attention was diverted by the gentle lapping of water against a foreign object. Both of them stared intently into the grey fog. The noise gradually became more consistent and then they heard the sound of idle rigging clanging against a ship’s mast.

The first mate looked up at the bridge. Capt Amundsen was standing at the doorway desperately trying to peer through the fog as if trying to penetrate its murky depth by sheer force of will. He had heard the approaching ship also. He raised his arm, signalling to the sailor manning the wheel to ease off to port.

Barely 50 feet off the stern the fog began to swirl as the bow of a wooden sailing ship started to emerge. The cabin boy and the first mate watched as the old sailing vessel cut through to pass across their stern. Its sails were hanging helplessly without any wind. Its deck was void of any human existence. It was a clinker-built schooner and dark strips of varnish had peeled off much of the wooden hull to expose lighter patches of worm-riddled wood. Nobody could be seen on board as it drifted past with agonising sluggishness. The ship’s name was scarcely visible – its black lettering faded by the corrosion of the salt air. Peterson read out the name slowly: “O . . . RO . . . P . . . ESA.”

Amundsen walked around the outside of the bridge, following the vessel’s progress as it drifted slowly away from them. It re-entered the mist, giving the illusion that it was being swallowed alive.

As the old ship was enveloped, an unnatural silence began to return as the eerie clanging of idle ropes and lines faded into the distance.

The ship gone, Amundsen watched the cabin boy and the first mate talking. Dobson then turned and made his way up the ladder leading to the bridge.

“What was the boy saying?” asked the captain.

“He’s convinced he’s just seen a ghost ship, the first mate said, smiling as he did so at the boy’s stupidity.

“Foolish lad,” the captain replied.

“I keep telling him,” Dobson continued, “we are the ghost ship.”

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