The Collapse Of The HMS Mariana
Mariana is a popular story from the first issue of Tales of the Unreal. You can purchase issues of Tales Here. You can read them for free Here . Earlier this month, Mariana was read by Lucas Bineville for his youtube channel By Daniel Gavilovski Read by Lucas Bineville September 2nd, 1855 Being now the assistant cook to chef Mr. Fig Neil, following the disembarking of the previous assistant after the Ship's return to the Cape of Good Hope, I have been advised that it may be useful, and I agree, to keep note of HMS Mariana’s provisions on its voyage to Bimini. This includes its supply of good water, cutlery, glassware, tinned meat, fresh meat, livestock, vegetables, fruit, lime juice, spices, and any other foodstuffs relating to the ship kitchen. There are few things which evade such a description. Of sweet biscuit and cream I will take particular note, as the Mariana kitchen has experience being the lair of petty thievery of such confections. Probably deckhands. I have no issue with a biscuit disappearing every now and then, but the Royal Navy is founded on order and documentation, and I must embody my role and duty. Therefore – a record will be kept. What is more worrisome than the biscuits are the fresh oranges which I have already found missing and unreported in the manifest. Immediately I suspected Mr. Fig Neil. As I've discovered, he has an affinity for secretly distilling fruity gin "for the officers", as he says. So I confront him in his quarters where he's asleep in his own sweat but he tells me that the produce was blue with mold when he checked on it and so, seeing it was unfit for crew or officer, threw it overboard with haste. To my ears, it sounds like a lie. How can two crates of oranges picked at an atoll go from tree to blue in two days? But both Mazlov and Evans on deck saw with their own eyes that the fruit was inedible. Noted in manifest. Perhaps it is just how tropical fruits are but, just in case, I will wash down the storeroom of any black disease that might have caused this. For the 5 officers of Mariana, dinner tonight will consist of two freshly slaughtered sucklings caramelized and stuffed with peacock liver and dates. Accompanied by aubergine roasted in butter, and baked potato. As dessert: crimson syllabub topped with bilberry and mint leaf. For the crew of 87: tinned pork, fresh courgette roasted in honey, and boiled potato. As dessert: crimson syllabub mentioned previously. No sign of gin... September 5th, 1855 Raleigh the seaman along with surgeon Lezisky will be absent from dinner due to some injury the sailor sustained. The man is unable to hold his spoon apparently. Though the pain should already subside come the morning, Lezisky tells me he'll give Raleigh some laudanum and stay by his bedside tonight. This comes as if in exchange for yesterday when, after having nothing but crew meals for three nights, Lieutenant Fitzroy finally quit his hunger strike and re-joined his fellows at the office table. If a certain Irish topman is to believed, the Lieutenant had a disagreement with the Captain so caustic that he refused to share a table with the good man until now. Something about wanting to turn the ship back – signs of bad winds. He personally came down below decks to thank the chef but, finding only myself, invested in me his compliments. I had never seen someone quite so content and delighted as he (who had just devoured a golden brown pullet stuffed with mash and leek). He must have been starving. "Marvellous, boy," he told me. "Simply marvellous. And they taught you that in the Rochelle did they? Well my God, my saliva was like a waterfall at the very sight! Keep it up, my friend!" It's such moments that make up the dessert of life. Tonight for five officers: ortolan drowned in armagnac and braised in rouge, alongside vegetable moussaka topped with oriental tomatoes and dried parsley. As dessert: raspberry kaiserschmarrn with apple sauce. For crew of 85: Boiled beef, roasted car
