After weeks at sea and the loss of over half of our crew, we are slowly coming to an impasse in our travel. Our fearless captain has come to sticking his finger in the air in order to decide which direction we are going to travel that day and the rest of the crew refuses to participate in the daily running of the ship. Our food resources are still plentiful (do mostly to the dwindling numbers) however some of the meats are beginning to age and spoil. Most of us have resigned ourselves to eating the nuts and what fruits have yet to rot.
Our food is nearly gone. The meats have spoiled and the fruit is gone. We are forced to fish for our daily meals and boiled water to drink. Luckily the sorceress on board can supply the wood and fire needed so that we do not have to start dismantling our passage.
Day 51...Or possibly more:
We have been within a thick and unforgiving fog for what I think is three or four days...However neither the sun nor moon has shown themselves in just as many days, so it is hard to tell. Our scout has yet to come down from his perch, though he continues to give updates to the captain (though whether or not he takes these to heart is another matter entirely). The two women on board have not come out of their cabins in over a week, though the large hired protection still stands guard unwaveringly.
Several days ago we ran aground on a reef (the scout gave warning though the captain was unable to maneuver in time). We were able to swim to a nearby island though we had to abandon the Queen Victoria in favor of survival and safety. There seems to be no other people on this rock, at least nothing that we have seen thus far. We have set up a small camp, however I am beginning to get the feeling that this has become a more permanant residency than we all wish to believe.
The scout has disappeared. The captain has built himself a makeshift helm and stands behind the wheel, undaunted. The women and myself are attempting to make do in this land. The warrior has finally reached the end of his path after suffering for days from his wounds.
<No day entered>
Attacked. Fire in the darkness. Monk vanished. Sorceress gone. All alone.
If this journal is ever found . . . Run.
Several drawings and images of eyes follow the next dozen pages, however no text is accompanied