The Catacomb VI

The weather has clearly improved during the night. Though cloudy, it is now grey clouds with a touch of rain, that are covering us with a north-east gale.

Moltke is again in the lead. What happened on the deserted island will have to be explained at the metting-point, which we should reach in half a day if my reading of the clearly falsified maps is correct. His ship is making more speed than I should think possible with such a crew and especially such a current.

It seems to be pulling, again to the south-east. By evening we should be near the object of our mission, unless these untimely weather-phenomenoms keep on breaking the rules of all knowledge of the baltic strait.

The Catacomb V

Before dawn I was roused by shots fired by Moltkes expedition, the visibility was too low for seeing even flares of the guns, but the sound rang through the fog clear enough. I counted 13 shots, sergeant Müller and boatswain Frankel, who had been on guardduty at the time(I do not dare to leave any of the sailors alone on but minor projects anymore) testified as to hearing screams and muffled shouts both from land and from the ship commandered by Moltke.

I believe that sergeant Müller must have been affected by the illness of the crew through the atmosphere on the nightwatch, as Motkes crew was clearly working with a speed which ensurpassed everything I had seen before on the voyage.
I gave the man hospital duty to keep his weakened mind from the un-German chatter of the superstitious northerners and let korporal Böhm take his place. A man of excellent physique and mind to deal with such a situation.

The Catacomb IV

Not just the savages manning the ship, but also the Alsatian swines of the Royal Cartographical Society seem to suffer from mental wasting.

At approximately 11:32( the clocks are malfunctioning due to the permanent moisture of the air) we passed a larger island westwards and witnessed fishing boats scattered along the coastline. I was unable to locate the island on any of the maps on board and the sailors seemed to have a mutual understanding in avoiding it altogether.
I am fearing for the consequences of this attitude. If it continues so our mission shall be greatly compromised, unless steps are taken to prevent it.

Thankfully Moltke had better control over his crew than Grimm and myself, and we watched his ship sending boats ashore to the part of the coastline dotted with shacks and overturned boats, all the while the superstitious vermin behaved in straight agitation over the sight of their colleagues stepping ashore and surrounding the village.

Not a movement was to be seen anywhere on the foreign land, outside of the circle of Prussian heroes. I noticed a ruined castle, some miles up the barren hills to the vest. It reminded me of pictures I had glimpsed as a student, antique wonders of Greek and Scotish prehistory, the way it lay up there; dead and unforgiven.

I mentioned this to the men not affected mentally by the hysteria of the Lübecker idiots and the emptyminded privates and they all agreed to the sight.
Ass the day progressed we followed Moltkes expedition scanning the land and attempting a scaling of the cliff on which the ruin perched. But before they could acchieve this it had begun to rain from strange yellow-coloured clouds and a thick fog was drenching the landscape.
By 1600 we could just about make out their campfires as they had evidently chosen to remain in the village.