Decayed Diary Page

Terrible things are happening in the bay. A week ago a ship dropped anchor off the shore—looked ordinary, but it flew no flag. Strange writing covered its sails, and at sunset Satan's servants came ashore to call their master. I saw them with my own eyes. They tied two captives to crosses and carved devil's signs into their bodies. Curse this wind! If it weren't for it, I'd have gathered my nets and run for Tortuga days ago. Holy Mary, protect me—I'll quit the bottle, I'll go back to Ursula. Only let them not see my hut…