SIgs_mixdown

On board a ship, the signalman untangled a flag and unintentionally caused a salute misunderstanding with an Italian ship. Later, an SOS message is received from a ship called HMS Terror, which was lost in 1848. The captain orders a rescue mission, and the crew encounters eerie and supernatural events on the abandoned ship. They manage to escape, but encounter a haunting presence on their own ship. The story ends with a crew member frozen in fear like the others before him. On board a ship, the signalman is in charge of the signal lamp, which is used to flash Morse code, semaphore flags, and the other flags aboard the ship. Commonly these men are called SIGs. When the Italian ship sailed past SIG's boat, the SS Sherman, he saw the flag was wrapped around the mast, so he ran on deck and found the halyards were tangled in the flag. He had to lower the flag so he could untangle the halyards, raise it again. When the Italians saw this, they believed the Americans had dipped their flag in a salute. The Sherman wouldn't have saluted the Italians in April 1940. Tensions were high between the two nations, but the Italians believed the Sherman had dipped the flag, so they dipped theirs. When SIGs got back to the con, the captain told them, get back out there, the Italians dipped their flag. Give them a dip. So he ran back out and did dip the flag for real, and the Italians dipped again as well. Then they sailed off into the night. At that point, SIGs took out a smoke and stood at the rail and thought back on what happened. He really hadn't dipped to the Italians. They thought he had when he untangled the halyards from his flag, and it was funny really, because no one else knew, and he would take that secret to his grave. A moment later, there were shouts for SIGs to come back to the con. In the radio room, there were Morse code messages coming in, and he was the only one who could understand them. Tossing his smoke overboard, he turned on his heel and went down the narrow companion way to the radio, stepped inside, and listened. Even though the other radio operators couldn't understand as well as he did, they could tell there was an urgency to the dots and dashes rapidly coming in. They looked at SIGs, and he was pale as a ghost. It's an SOS. They're saying all hands are dying, or dead. Use caution. In fact, it sounds more like a warning than a cry for help. They're saying their cargo is hazardous, and there's an evil overpowering them. The captain appeared in the doorway. Well, SIGs, what you got? It's an SOS, sir. Pretty desperate. It's also pretty cryptic. They're giving an SOS at the same time they're sending a warning. Well, what ship is it? They say it's the HMS Terror, sir. The what? I know. I know. The ship was lost with the HMS Erebus in 1848, northwest passage, stuck in the ice, starving. Over fifteen rescue attempts. I know the story, too, sir, but that's who they say they are. Sound General Quarters, but stand easy. Have the rescue crew muster at the fantail. The crew grumbled, some of them loudly. The captain bristled, shouting again, Sound General Quarters, but have the crew stand easy. Arriving at the con, the captain gave orders, plot a course for the other ship. Aye, aye, sir. This a little spooky, sir. You have no idea. 1848. They wouldn't even have had Morse Code. A fog surrounded the HMS Terror, and a supernatural light glowed from behind, making her appear as a silhouette, as the Sherman came alongside and shouted, Ahoy, HMS Terror! The whole way. We are the Sherman. We have a boarding party. Pulling the lines and making the two enormous ships come close, the crew tumbled over the rails, trailed over the gunwales, and began to walk on deck. It wasn't long before one of the rescuemen shouted, Over here! A crewman stood, his face staring upward into the middle distance, eyes wide open, and mouth agape in a scream, perfectly motionless, as though he were a statue next to him stood a small dog, similarly frozen, his mouth in a snarl, staring up at the same empty space. Siggs was curious about the other radio operator. He tried to find his way there, but at first he was lost, surprised to find it was inside the con. There was the operator, his hand still on the Morse Code, but he was completely dead, staring at the logbook on the desk, still open. The rest of the crew were curious about the cargo, running down the stairwells, finding the cargo holds. There were shouts when fires were lit. Quickly, the captain commanded them to abandon the ship. As they approached the gunwale, the railings between the Sherman and the Terror, there was a woman standing in front of them. Most sailors have some superstitions, and they sucked in their breath. All of them turned away, but they continued to head for the railing. She turned toward them, staring, even pointing as they jumped the railing back onto the Sherman. The fire was spreading below decks, and they could hear explosions as well. Relief flooded through all of them as they were back on the decks of the Sherman. The captain headed for the con and gave orders to leave the HMS Terror behind as fast as possible. As the motors roared to life, the sailors in the rear on the fantail saw the woman pointing at them. She was engulfed in flames and explosions. It wasn't much longer before the crew began seeing a woman on the Sherman, in the companion ways, in the stairwells, in the holds. One day, Siggs would go on deck to do his patrol, and find a fellow crewman, standing, frozen, his mouth open in a scream, his eyes wide, but he, himself, perfectly motionless, dead. 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