“The sea is everything. It covers seven tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides.” 

Captain Nemo, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea 

 

They just crossed it. Longitude 25.0000° North, Latitude 71.0000° West. The Bermuda Triangle. It was just after dusk. The sun had already seeped well beneath the horizon, the sounds of waves crashing into the seam of the haul pulsated around the small, quaint catamaran. 

The rustling of the sailcloth so gentle and soothing to the ear as the fabric filled with the sultry caribbean breeze. The disquieting sounds of creaking from the rigging of the ropes grew louder as it flexed under the tension of the sail. 

To the crew, their journey had been interminable. 

 

Thirteen hours of violent, rough seas, along with eight hours of intense, heavy winds, and six horrendous hours of Miles’ vomiting. Poor Miles. Yúcahu was certainly not welcoming of their presence. The catamaran had taken quite the beating during last night’s storm. The winds had left a gaping hole roughly eight inches in diameter, piercing right through the leech of the sail. 

While the crew tried to sew the hole shut, their naivety made it no use. 

 

At the helm of the vessel, Zach peered at the ship’s radar where the tiny green dot, indicating the catamaran’s precise location, showed the vessel in the direct centre of the triangle. Immediately, Zach turned the bow thrusters off. 

 

“We’re here,” he exclaimed to the rest of the crew. “We’re finally here.” 

 

The crew weren’t simply just here for the thrill of adventure, the crew of the Catamaran were out here in Bermuda’s backyard for something. They were thirsty for knowledge. They were hungry for the truth. 

Eden and Ava, who had been lying by the edge of the ship’s bow, got up. 

 

Exhaustion and excitement lighted up both of their fixations as they quickly yet sluggishly headed to the top deck, like undead zombies awakening from their duly slumber. 

Miles, who had been throwing up just an hour before, appeared from below deck. His face said it all, too ill to exacerbate his excitement over their arrival yet too eager to lay dormant in bed missing out on all the fun. 

The four gathered together on the top deck in awe of the quietude of the night. 

 

After twenty seven hours of facing the burden of the sea, the calm and passivity of it all took the crew by surprise. Who knew the centre of the Bermuda Triangle would be so tranquil? 

In the crystal clear, moonlit sky, Ava pointed up at a familiar sight. 

 

“Aquila,” she squealed. 

 

“It must be close,” Zach replied in anticipation. 

 

The eagle-like constellation soaring high above the night sky lit up the surrounding water. Peering down over the edge of the railing into the sea, the sight of glowing fish mesmerized the crew of the catamaran. 

 

Eden wheeled a disquieting observation, “The fish are all swimming in the opposite direction, as if they’re fleeing from something.” 

 

“More like someone,” said Miles. 

 

“It is certainly close,” Zach replied. 

 

Zach dove into his backpack; a treasure trove of trinkets he had brought with him. In it lied the answers to exactly why they were out playing in Bermuda’s backyard like little kids. 

Zach pulled out the book, stretched along the centre of the cover read “The Bermuda Chronicles: The Ill-fated Tale of the S.S. Aquila.” Zach opened the book and began to bespout the story as they waited.

 

⋯

 

“I discovered it, ventured into it, and before long, sir, you too will have passed through my Arabian tunnel.”

Captain Nemo, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea 

 

“Here is the S.S. Aquila’s last known location,” Zach said, pointing to the map on the page.

 

“Longitude 25.0000° North, Latitude 71.0000° West. The very same place we find ourselves here tonight,” Zach was well into the book. 

 

Eden and Ava’s exhaustion caught up to them as they slowly drifted off into slumberland. Ava peered at her watch— it was ten past eleven. 

Each one of them were showing signs of fatigue; everyone except Zach, who at this point, seemed to be reading aloud to himself. The story pressed on for half an hour more until it came to a hasty halt. 

 

“Look,” Miles shouted, pointing towards the bow, “Dead ahead.” 

 

The crew of the catamaran immediately got up, peering into the distance. If some of them felt weary before, they were more than wide awake now. Could it be? 

A small, shimmering glow appeared just along the horizon, like the front lights of a subway train seen on the edge of the platform as it thundered its way through the tunnel approaching the station. Zach quickly glanced at the catamaran’s radar when he noticed a tiny, green dot edging closer and closer to their precise location. 

 

“Get ready,” he said, “It’s here.” 

 

As they watched in awe and anticipation, Zach readied the ropes and cable in preparation for arrival. 

Eden and Ava assisted him, while Miles took command of the helm. None of them knew what to expect. After all, they were only teenagers. 

But adolescent minds always desire knowledge. They desire answers. They desire the truth. There is no simple explanation for what drives such a craving, but adolescents are curious, and curiosity tends to lead them longing for the small, shimmering glow just beyond the horizon. Before long, the tiny, green dot—that seemed to be at least ten nautical miles away—appeared to be right on top of the catamaran. 

 

There it was, nearly brushing up against the port side of the catamaran. Large withered down letters along the side of the vessel were difficult to read, yet manageable to make out: 

 

“S.S. AQUILA,” the letters read. 

 

The battered hull made for a disquieting sight to see for the crew of the catamaran. Three towering smokestacks lined the top deck of the ocean liner, with smoke gathering around them, like giant masses of cumulus. Glowing lights from within the ship seeped through the hundreds of portholes adorning the vessel, illuminating the entire ship from stem to stern. The Aquila’s gangway door just so happened to be opened as if it was welcoming the crew of the catamaran. Now, with the port side within millimeters of the Aquila’s starboard side, Zach grabbed the available rope, lassoing the ocean liner’s mooring. Zach was first to board the infamous vessel, hoisting himself up with the rope. Rough seas would have made this near impossible. Yúcahu was finally generous to the crew of the catamaran this evening. Ava was next, followed by Eden, then finally Miles. 

Once onboard, the four of them found themselves standing in the ship’s atrium. Below them lay the Aquila emblem etched in the marble flooring. In the centre of the emblem was an intricate mosaic of Aquila, pictured carrying a thunderbolt. Zach was puzzled. Was it Zeus’s or was it Jupiter’s? Outlined in the middle of the crest were the words “EST. 1924.” The atrium spanned three decks. 

 

The four of them glanced up, admiring the vessel’s sheer size in complete and utter silence. Adorning the ceiling of the atrium was a seemingly preserved 1920s ornate chandelier, radiating its glow in all directions. The chandelier was embellished with cascading crystals and glass prisms, evocative of the Art Deco style during the time period. The crew of the catamaran had only explored the atrium and yet, were in awe of Aquila's visceral and majesty. 

Just as they were getting ready to explore further, something broke the silence: a strange and frightening cry echoing through the halls of the ship. The sound was faint, yet manageable to make out. 

 

“Help,” they cried, “Help.” 

 

The four of them looked at each other, stunned by the foreboding cries. 

 

“Help. Help. Over here.” 

 

Miles found it interesting. The calmness of their voice didn’t seem like they were in trouble, nor in any danger. Yet it was clear they were making themselves known and were in need of help. But where could the cries be coming from? 

 

“It sounds like it's coming from upstairs,” said Ava, pointing to the staircase directly in front of them.

 

 Zach nodded and the four of them headed for the stairs. 

 

⋯

 

“We will die together, friend Ned.”

Professor Pierre Aronnax, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

 

The crew of the catamaran journeyed upstairs, through endless hallways draped in old yet decorative carpeting that smelled of dust and grime, through dining rooms and staterooms that lay perfectly still as if they were frozen in time, and through limitless promenade decks with tattered shuffleboards before arriving in one room on the upper decks, where a disheveled old man was tied to the wheel of the Aquila. The source of the cries. 

 

“Who are you?” shouts Zach, hesitant to free the man from his predicament. 

 

“My name is Daumber. William Daumber. I am the captain of this vessel,” alleges the man. 

 

The four of them turned to look at each other. None of them could believe their eyes. It was Captain Daumber. Thee Captain William Daumber. The infamous long-lost captain of the S.S. Aquila. 

 

“If you could be so kind as to help this old seafarer out,” exclaimed the man. 

 

Zach nodded and approached the man. The four of them were still completely stunned. As Zach hastily untied the man’s hands from the wheel, he couldn’t help himself but ask the question on all four of their minds. 

 

“Captain Daumber, are you aware that your ship, the S.S. Aquila, was reported lost at sea a century ago?”

 

 No response. 

 

“Well thank you, kind sir,” replied the man. 

 

Miles chose to ask him a different question. 

 

“What were you doing tied to the wheel and what happened to all of the passengers and crew?” 

 

“Well if you must know,” the man continued, “a band of pirate misfits, who were looking to loot my ship, had commandeered the old vessel. We did everything we could, but it was no use. Them pirates were just too sophisticated for our crew. They ended up taking away all my passengers and all my crew as hostages, leaving me behind on the bridge.” 

 

The four of them looked at each other once more, puzzled by the captain’s story. It didn’t align with the ill-fated tale at all. 

Still left with many unanswered questions, the four of them made their way back to the catamaran, bringing along the disheveled old man with them. 

As they untethered the ropes from the Aquila, Ava gazed at her watch. It was half past two. The crew of the catamaran were en route back to their home in Key West. They would never make it back. What puzzled Zach the most was how much Captain Daumber’s story differed from that of the ill-fated tale written in “The Bermuda Chronicles.” In the book, it was the infamous Bermuda Beast that claimed the lives of all passengers and all crew, including Captain Daumber. Nowhere in the story did it mention anything about a band of pirate misfits taking control of the bridge. How could the Captain of the S.S. Aquila—a ship that vanished 100 years ago—still be alive a century later? And if Daumber was telling the truth, then why would a band of pirate misfits leave only the captain of the vessel behind? Something wasn’t adding up. 

 

As Zach flipped through the pages of the book, he stumbled upon a foreboding passage. He read it quietly and softly aloud in front of the entire crew. “The Bermuda Beast was known to have shape-shifting capabilities, often taking the aura of their last victim. The four of them froze. Wait a second. Could that mean? A loud, shrieking roar was exacerbated right behind them. 

 

Before they could turn around, it was too late. The catamaran along with its crew vanished without a trace, never to be seen again.