Convoy for Atlantis

Another boat, another human. Oh Lord, a minute. Nine days open both, trying to believe yet that nine teens, thirty-four, nine days ago I thought I'd get a scoop and everly into going with me. Using his private yacht, or out into the Atlantic. But things were happening.

Together we defied precautions. Offered ourselves as bait for some unseen devil. Many the waters of the eastern sea. That was my fate. That's all. Been on deck an hour.

There's nothing. I told you it was useless, didn't I? I am still not convinced that it is. Something has happened to those three missing ships. Certainly something has happened to them. I simply sank, that's all.

But it isn't all. It's plain nonsense. Making those three boats went down with all hands on board with not a clue to their disappearance. Besides, what about their radios? Not a distress signal was picked up.

All three cases. I know, but that's still not a sign something unusual has happened. Well, just use your head man. This is 1934. Boats just don't go down in the Atlantic without someone somewhere knowing about these three certainly did.

Just disappeared into nothingness without leaving a trace. And I still say something went wrong in each case that can be explained in a natural, normal manner. And I say that you don't know what you're talking about.

Well, don't be so violent in what you have to say. After all, I've gone this far with you. I might as well see it through. I'm sorry. Just anxious, that's all. Yes. So am I.

There's no sense fighting each other's heads off. may need them before we're through with this. I've set the automatic pilot. Oh, it's clear. Good. I go up on deck and have a turn up the wheel after a bit. Game of Rummy? Oh, I don't think so. Thanks. Poker? Okay. Got a cigarette? Yes. Somewhere. That last ship. The SS, Clara