Captains log, June 7, 1775

Ran into a storm this evening we've drawn up the sails, but we're being thrown this way and that. We're being tossed around like a cork. The waves are getting higher and I've ordered the men to batten down the hatches but we've already begun to take on water. The pumps have been pushed to their limit and I don't think that they can keep out the salty sea. As I write this, lightning strikes the water sending a loud crack of thunder across the waters surface. This startled Max, the ships dog, into hiding under my bunk. The crew tried everything but he won't come out. Their efforts seem to all have been in vain. We have sense given up trying to coax him out. The waves of this storm have become so great that I can barely keep my inkbottle in one place. It slides back and forth over my desk and it is making writing difficult. The cook and half the crew have become seasick and I, myself, am beginning to feel the affects of this storm.

The sky is blackened with clouds and it is utterly dark, except for the occasional bolt of lightning streaking across the dark sky. This has truly shown me the might of Mother Nature and what she can deal out to us sailors on her vast open seas.
The Lt. has just informed me that two crewmen have just washed overboard and have drowned. The poor men, I will pray for them tonight, if there is a tonight.
God help us all.
This storm has turned into a real hurricane. The wind has become too strong for us to hold our position and we are being blown off course. If this storm ever subsides although we may not live to see it. I know not what will happen to us during this retched storm or what will happen to all of us when it subsides, if it ever does.
Weather it be Gods will or not this storm may be the end of us.
We may not last the night.



With the prayers of us all, Always,

Capt. Nathanial Lords