Pacific Ocean I: The Ghost Ship

9) The Ghost Ship
Chilean Grounds, May 1, 1845

A) Boarding the Rachel
Just as the mate’s whaleboat is lowered from the Quiddity, the first drops of rain begin spattering across the deck. A light drizzle for now, the rain becomes more regular over the next few hours. As the boat approaches the derelict, the stench of rotting meat becomes overwhelming. Each investigator must pass a Constitution roll or vomit; in any case, all physical rolls suffer a –1D10 penalty unless the character wraps his face in scented cloth. The sharks swim out to greet the newcomers, aggressive enough to snap at the oars. It requires a lance or harpoon to keep them at bay. (If one of the “expeditionary team” was wounded by sharks during Encounter 7, a Sanity roll for a 0/1 loss might be in order!)

The cutting stage offers the easiest approach, but it’s surrounded by sharks and draped in rotting whalemeat; so Pynchon deems a larboard approach more prudent. The boat is lashed to the Rachel for safekeeping. A Climb roll is needed to scramble up the chainplates. A failure drops the character back into the boat with no damage, but two failures in a row strands the character in the whaleboat, too nauseated by the stench to make the effort.

Dr. Lowell and the Rachel
Montgomery Lowell spent a month on the Rachel in 1930, a sick passenger under the care of Captain John Starbuck. As this period falls under his Lacuna, Dr. Lowell has no memories of the Rachel or her crew. However, setting foot on this abandon vessel changes that. The Keeper should make this an uneasy experience for Lowell, teasing him with subtle flashbacks and vague, dreamy impressions.

B) The Deck
Whatever happened to the crew, the Rachel was indeed in the process of boiling a whale. Remains of the creature are scattered across the deck, a festering banquet for Chilean seagulls. Most of the blood has hardened to a reddish crust, but the oil remains. As the rain continues to fall, the decks become increasingly more slippery, and the Keeper may call for occasional Dexterity rolls to prevent accidents. There’s no sign of the Rachel’s whaleboats. While the characters may range across the deck as they see fit, a few areas demand special attention. In no particular order:

The Tryworks
Investigating the tryworks discovers the source of the ghostly light. Both pots are half-filled with whale oil. Even though the furnace is cold, the oil is aflame, its surface rippling with pale green fire. The oil is unusually clear and limpid, and there are no “cracklings” floating on the surface. But strangest of all, the ghostly flames radiate no heat! Anyone who touches the flames feels a slight chill and experiences a fleeting sense of déjà-vu. If this thermodynamic miracle is questioned, Pynchon shrugs it off—“Some kind of natural phosphorescence? This whale was obviously…infected with some kind of parasite?” A Psychology roll detects his uneasiness, with a Hard success realizing he’s lying. Any Science roll made by Dr. Lowell dismisses this notion as unlikely, but Pynchon refuses to be pressed. A Whalecraft roll suggests checking the duck pens. They are still filled with water—another confirmation the flame is cold.

The Bones
A Spot Hidden roll reveals something dark at the bottom of the larboard cauldron. The mass may be probed with a try-fork, which suggests it’s a jumble of hard objects. A Strength roll is required to pry the mass free. Emerging from the pot and oozing with oil, the mass is revealed as a tangled cluster of human bones! Several rib bones, three femurs, a pelvis, two skulls…all knotted together—no, not knotted—entwined together, like the bone has grown into itself… And furthermore, the bones are black. Not scorched, exactly—but black, black through and through.

Viewing the bones requires a Sanity roll for a 1/1D3 loss. A Medicine roll reconstructs a total of three skeletons, but draws blanks regarding their unusual condition: bones can’t fuse together, and nothing should discolor them so completely! Of course, Dr. Lowell may be reminded of Diego Salva, the deformed harpooner from Imboca.

The Whale
A Whalecraft roll identifies the carcass as a female sperm whale; but larger than normal, and jet black in coloration, like a killer whale. A Spot Hidden roll detects abnormal patterns on her skin; a kind of mottled hieroglyphics. Any character suffering from the Call of Dagon must make a Sanity roll. If he fails, he’s gripped by the sudden certainty that the patterns have meaning, almost like writing. The hieroglyphs are impossible to decipher or resolve, but the feeling of veiled profundity cannot be shaken off.

The Head
The whale’s head hangs above deck, its case mostly bailed. A Spot Hidden roll discovers something unusual about the left eye—it’s larger, and more complicated than the right eye. Furthermore, there are seven smaller eyelets clustering around it! A strange mutation, like Faust’s extra toes, or Pizarro the two-headed snake?

The Case
If the interior of the case is examined, the naked remains of the Rachel’s cabin boy are found congealed in the remaining spermaceti. His case-bucket has been split into pieces of wood, one of which is impaled in the side of the case wall like a piton. A Spot Hidden roll observes deep gouge marks in the case. Was the young man trapped in here? Did he break the bucket and attempt to climb out?

The Cabin Boy
The boy is a twelve-year old African-American with a hare-lip. A Medicine roll determines the cause of death as choking. In an attempt to remain alive, he began devouring the whale from inside-out, and choked on a piece of blubber. This is confirmed by an autopsy, which exposes a stomach full of whale meat. A second Medicine roll, or a Hard success on the first, places his time of death as quite recent—maybe as little as eight hours ago! Was this unfortunate wretch still alive when the Quiddity hove-to for the night, a mile away from his dying struggles…? And of course: where did everyone else go?

The Sathic Seed
If the piece of blubber is removed from the cabin boy’s throat, a small, chitinous burr is found clumped within. If Dr. Lowell obtained the “specimen” Dr. Adrian Talbot removed from the harpooner Diego Salva, this appears to be its smaller twin. (See “Chapter 1, Encounter 24” for a description and details about the Sathic Seed.) Lowell may subject it to the same analysis as described in Chapter 1, but there’s no additional information to be learned. If the whale’s carcass is searched, 1D4+1 additional “burrs” may be found. If shown to Pynchon, he declares them as proof of his parasite theory. The men are eager to throw these objects into the sea; if Dr. Lowell wishes to retain a sample, he’ll need a successful Sleight of Hand or Stealth roll to avoid detection and censure.

C) The Forecastle
The forecastle’s as vacant as the upper decks—other than rats and cockroaches, there’s no signs of life. The sailors’ belongings are undisturbed, and a search of sea-trunks and wooden bunks reveals nothing unusual. There is, however, a rather excellent violin secured in a black leather-and-whalebone case; along with numerous amenities like tobacco and a first-rate scrimshaw kit. Being a Temperance ship, alcohol was prohibited onboard the Rachel, but a Hard Spot Hidden finds a flask of rye under a sailor’s bedding. Of course, taking any of these objects is up to the sailor’s conscience; Mr Pynchon couldn’t care less, but Mr. Coffin may have more noble inclinations. A Sleight of Hand or Stealth roll should suffice for pilfering little things, but the violin must pass Mr. Coffin’s muster.

The Scrimshaw Fiddle
The violin reveals remarkable craftsmanship. It was built in Nantucket by Daniel Weeks and carried to sea by his brother Stephen. Carved from spruce and maple, the traditional ebony components have been replaced with scrimshaw. The tuning pegs, fingerboard, bridge, and tailpiece are whalebone, carved with elaborate nautical images—sailing ships, mermaids, anchors, etc. The violin has a surprisingly sweet tone, and adds a +1D10 bonus die to any musical skill roll while playing the instrument.

Daniel Weeks Violin, c. 1835-50. From WhalingScrimshaw.org.

D) Steerage
The steerage section is identical to the forecastle: the men have just vanished! A Spot Hidden discovers a ragged hole blown into the bulkhead near the carpenter’s berth, exactly where a sleeping man’s head would be. There are no bloodstains, but probing the hole discovers a .54 caliber lead ball. If Rachel is present, she may examine the harpooneer’s bunk, where she’ll find the initials “W.H.” carved into the wood: presumably for “William Hart,” her father. Below that is, “R.H. 16 Jan. 25,” Rachel’s birthday. If she searches for the sachet from her dreams, she finds it lodged in the beam above. Although the calico is faded and the herbs long dried to dust, just touching her mother’s magic grants Rachel a free Development Check on her Witchcraft skill.

E) Cabin
A Listen roll made outside the cabin companionway hears the sound of something moving inside—something smaller than a man, but certainly bigger than a rat! Opening the door is awarded with fresh notes in the bouquet of stink, as the officer’s last meal lies spoiled on the cabin table. The noise comes from a seagull who managed to find its way into the cabin and is enjoying the officer’s rotting pork. The bird has chased off the roaches and rats, but numerous flies buzz around the food, and maggots squirm through the festering meat. A Science (Biology) or Natural History roll suggests the meal was abandoned four to five days ago.

From all appearances, the Rachel was a tidy ship, and her pantry is well-stocked. An amateur painting of a Nantucket lighthouse hangs on the wall—seeing it costs Rachel 0/1 Sanity points, as it’s the very lighthouse where her mother committed suicide. The cabin lacks the Quiddity’s library, but a Bible sits on a shelf, along with a cluster of murex shells and a “God’s-eye” made from green and blue yarn.

F) First Mate’s Stateroom
The first mate’s stateroom has been barred shut, three solid planks nailed across the door. A foul smell seeps through the cracks. It requires a Strength roll to pry off the boards. The moment the door is opened, the overpowering stench of death floods the cabin. But—there’s no body; not even remains! The odor lingers for a few moments, then fades as quickly as it came.

The Logbook

The ship’s logbook rests on the mate’s desk. Whatever the fate of the unhappy ship, it’s unrecorded in these pages, which describe a fairly typical journey. The Rachel departed Nantucket on June 4, 1844. The ship was commanded by Obediah Whippey, with Ezekiel Paddack as chief mate. Milo Joy and William Hussey were second and third mates. The cabin boy was Benjamin Tallow, “Caesar’s son from New Guinea.” The logbook records an easy passage around Cape Horn, but a paltry number of whales taken along the Patagonian coast. Their most recent call was at the “Galleypaguses,” where the Rachel spent six days taking on “turpins & water” while the “captain recovered from an illness.” That was four weeks ago.

Captain Whippey
If Dr. Lowell is present, an Idea roll recalls “Obed Whippey” as second mate of the Rachel when it rescued him from Albemarle Island. The memory comes flooding back with an hallucinatory clarity, illuminating the features of Mr. Whippey and the sound of his gravelly voice. That, and…he was kind, Lowell remembers him as being kind. But there’s nothing else he remembers. If Rachel Ward is present, an Idea roll provokes a childhood memory of Whippey as a younger man, an officer on her father’s ship. She remembers him as being gentle, bringing a pound cake when her father “pretended” it was her seventh birthday, because he missed her real birthday at sea.

Mocha Dick
The logbook does reveal one thing of particular interest! In the weeks before they called upon the Galápagos, the Rachel sighted a “prodigious white whale” some 700 miles west of the Peruvian Coast, some 6° degrees below the equator. Paddack made the following note: “Recognizing the whale as the same that bedeviled the R. in ’36, Cap W. forbade lowering.”

The Missing Page
A Spot Hidden roll made while examining the logbook reveals that a page has been torn from the book, very neatly and precisely. The missing page followed the entry about arriving at the “Galleypaguses.” A Leadership roll recognizes that the following page seems quite abrupt, with little record of the week spent on the islands. If a clean sheet of paper is placed over the next page and rubbed with charcoal, a barely-discernable impression of writing is revealed. (It’s the oldest trick in the book, after all!) The following phrases may be gleaned from the impressions, each requiring a Regular Library Use or a Hard Spot Hidden to interpret. Although any character may try reading each impression once, he may only roll for one skill. The impressions are:

Impression 1: “…said he was a priest…”
Impression 2: “…many strange turtles…”
Impression 3: “…unheimlich…”
Impression 4: “…the Republic of Abyssinia…”
Impression 5: “…sketch, or drawing, of the thing, like an octopus…”
Impression 6: “…black whales from some uncharted grounds…”

Impressions on the Impressions
A Language (German) roll recognizes unheimlich as German for “uncanny.” A History roll recognizes Abyssinia as the Ethiopian Empire; but Mr. Coffin immediately thinks of “Kubla Khan,” a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge featuring the following stanza: “A damsel with a dulcimer / In a vision once I saw: / It was an Abyssinian maid / And on her dulcimer she played, / Singing of Mount Abora.”

G) Mates’ Stateroom
The door to the second and third mates’ stateroom has been smashed to splinters, presumably using the axe still embedded in the door jamb. The interior and all contents of the room have been painted black—walls, ceiling, floor, bunk, bedding, even the lantern. A can of ship’s paint rests on the floor, now congealed to a gooey mess. A search of the mates’ personal effects reveals nothing of interest, except for the fact every item has been painted black. Any character suffering from the Call of Dagon must make a Sanity roll or lose 0/1 point. Why? Who knows. It just seems right.

H) The Captain’s Cabin
Captain Whippey’s cabin is well-appointed, but considerably less ornate than its counterpart on the Quiddity. Whippey’s personal effects are exactly what one would expect of a Nantucket captain, and a Navigation roll made while searching his charts finds nothing unusual. The only thing out of the ordinary is the .50 caliber “Queen Anne” pistol resting on Whippey’s desk. The pistol’s case is nearby, containing spare powder, eleven rounds, and the key to unscrew the barrel. If the pistol is inspected, it proves to be loaded, but the powder has spilled from the pan and lies scattered across the deck. However, a Spot Hidden roll reveals strange indentations around the muzzle—are they toothmarks?

Medicine Chest
If the characters search the Rachel’s medicine chest, a First Aid or Medicine roll determines that everything seems in order, except for the complete absence of opium. A Hard success also observes a lack of medicines used to treat headaches and neuralgia.

The Captain’s Stateroom
A search of Whippey’s stateroom establishes the captain as a devout man with simple tastes. The only thing out of the ordinary is a bottle of “Doctor Tarr’s Aerated Brain Salts,” a patent medicine marketed for “Brain Troubles, Headaches, Nervous Debility, Excessive Study, Neuralgia, Mania, and Over-Brainwork.” There’s only a few tablets left. A Science (Chemistry) roll analyzes their composition as little more than sodium chloride, sodium bicarbonate, and tartaric acid. They fizz in water though, which is pretty cool.

I) The Hold
The hold contains all the supplies one might expect from a whaler nine months at sea. Unfortunately, the Rachel was experiencing a run of bad luck, and there’s only 48 barrels of oil. Nevertheless, that’s 48 more barrels for the Quiddity, so Mr, Pynchon decides to salvage the hold. That means bringing a crew onboard the Rachel to lift the main hatch and operate the tackle. Sensitive to the superstitions of sailors, he instructs Mr. Coffin to “Drain the trypots, discard the bones, and give the boy a burial at sea. Whatever happened here, it’s over, and we shan’t pass up this fare.”

Unless protestations are backed by a Hard Persuade roll, Mr. Coffin has little choice but to follow orders, which may be narrated or roleplayed as the Keeper desires. Mr. Pynchon returns to the Quiddity to get things moving, neglecting to inform Captain Joab about the Mocha Dick sighting until after the Quids have retrieved the oil from the Rachel.

The Terrible Foulness
Mr. Pynchon instructs a reliable sailor to inventory the Rachel’s staples, particularly fresh food, tobacco, and coffee. To everyone’s surprise, all the food is spoiled, and the fresh water has become brackish and foul. Even the coffee and tobacco is ruined, as if the ship’s stores have been years at sea instead of months. By God, even the grog has a strange, bitter taste. This inexplicable spoilage increases the men’s sense of unease, and renewed talk of disease begins circulating. While a Medicine roll dismisses disease as a possibility, a successful Science (Biology) roll fails to produce a satisfactory explanation. One of the NPC sailors, perhaps Duke Nelson, puts it most succinctly—“It’s like everything has been exposed to some terrible foulness.”

J) The 300-Gallon Chapel
The Rachel’s final secret is discovered as the barrels of oil are being lifted from the hold. While NPCs may stumble upon this, if any player characters are involved in transferring the oil—likely Beckett or Reburn—they should be the ones to make the discovery. It seems that one of the Rachel’s largest casks is empty. An improvised handle has been nailed to the cask head, turning it into a makeshift door. In fact, the head pulls of rather easily…

The 300-gallon cask has been transformed into a cylindrical chapel. It’s still cramped, and requires a celebrant to stoop to gain entrance, but the intent is quite clear. The interior of the cask has been painted black, with tiny holes bored into the roof like dozens of stars. A pair of lanterns suspended outside the cask provide a heavenly light, illuminating the constellations like some medieval conception of the heavens. A tortoise shell serves as an altar, covered with dozens of spermaceti candles dripping long, white stalactites to the floor. An iron cross is mounted above the altar, its arms used to crucify a starfish. (If Dr. Lowell sees this, it triggers a Sanity roll for 0/1 loss. But he can’t explain why it unsettles him so.) Three small signal flags surround the crucifix, each made from colored cloth. The first features three horizontal bands: blue, white, blue. The second has two vertical bands: red and white. The third is a red flag with a yellow cross. In place of a Bible, a copy of Frederick Marryat’s Code of Signals for the Merchant Service rests on the altar, open to “Part IV: Lighthouses.”

Captain Marryat’s Codebook
Devised by Frederick Marryat, a captain in the Royal Navy famous for writing adventure novels, the Marryat code is a system for communicating between ships at sea. It requires ten numerical flags and a handful of “distinguishing pennants.” The codebook is divided into types of communication—ship names, ports and lighthouses, naval commands, phrases, even vocabulary words. Each of these categories corresponds to a distinguishing pennant. The pennant is followed by a sequence of numerical flags, thus forming a number corresponding to an entry in the codebook. Thousands of messages can be conveyed by this code, as long as a new codebook is printed every few years to keep track of new ships and various political changes. (By the 1840s, the Marryat code has been adopted by many European countries, but the United States uses its own systems, some differing from one port to another.)

Glancing through Code Signals reveals hundreds of impromptu edits and additions, each made in neat lettering with a black pen: imaginary lighthouses, fictional ships, mythical cities, nonsensical codes composed of fractions and symbols. “Part V: Sentences” includes several unnerving additions such as “–1 Anti-North,” “0 Space of All Colors,” “3.14 Leviathan girds the oceans!” and of course, “666 The Thing spoke to me.” While many of the scribbled designations are nonsensical, if Mr. Coffin flips through the codebook, the discovery of “Celephaïs” under “Ports” brings a vague twinge of recognition and triggers an automatic Development Check in Dreaming.

Making Sense of the Chapel
A Seamanship roll identifies the posted signal flags as “2,” “3,” and “7.” An Intelligence roll can glean this information from the codebook itself, which contains a lovely color plate depicting the flags. The lack of a “distinguishing pennant” means the code represents a “Sentence.” According to Marryat, that sentence is: “237 Must be adopted.” If the inked additions are compared to samples of Whippey or Paddack’s handwriting, the author of the spurious codes proves to be someone else. Perhaps it’s one of the mates, whoever painted his stateroom black? A Navigation or Science (Astronomy) roll indicates the stars drilled into the roof are nonsensical, arranged in coherent groupings, but matching no terrestrial constellations in either hemisphere. However, a Hard success on a Science (Astronomy) roll suggests the constellations are vaguely familiar, as if seen from a different angle than our solar system. An Extreme success pinpoints Aldebaran as a possible location, but this is purely speculative, and impossible to confirm.

K) Leaving the Rachel
Once the oil has been transferred, the Quiddity departs the Rachel with the quiet solemnity of a thief sneaking away from a corpse. Rumors of disease, parasites, madness, and mutiny are exchanged nervously between sailors, and the story of the dead cabin boy proves impossible to suppress. Some wonder if the Rachels aren’t out there right now, lost at sea in their whaleboats. Such accounts are dismissed by Mr. Pynchon—“We’re only a few hundred miles from shore. This isn’t the Essex. If the Rachels are alive, they’re in Chile by now, safe and sound.” While there’s some truth to this, the question remains—why did they abandon ship in the first place? And why did they leave the cabin boy behind? And of course, Dr. Lowell may be wondering—what happened to them at the Galápagos?

Behind the Scenes
Captain Joab and Mr. Pynchon are deeply disturbed by the Rachel. It’s clear the Nantucketers found a Black Whale, despite being nowhere near Kith Kohr. But what drove them mad? That’s a mystery to the Covenant as well as to the crew. As far as the Bons pêcheurs know, the Black Whales are little different than normal parmaceti, just larger and more ferocious.

White Leviathan, Chapter 3—Pacific Ocean I
[Back to Encounter 8, Walpurgis Nacht | White Leviathan TOC | Forward to Encounter 10, The Fruitless Search]

Author: A. Buell Ruch
Last Modified: 13 October 2022
Email: quail (at) shipwrecklibrary (dot) com
White Leviathan PDF: [TBD]