The boat made a thudding noise every time it hit the wooden beam. They pulled it in silently, tugging and twisting the rope, not even grunting at the weight.

It had been almost a week since they last saw the boat. Back in the cabin, there was a signature in the logbook from when it had been signed out. The small sailors had taken sandwiches and binoculars and little jars to put fish in. Now the boat was lonely, drifting back in from wherever, with no one to guide it to shore.

One of the men stepped in and the little row boat sighed against the added weight. There was nothing in it, save for a small water-damaged notebook.

He turned to the people on shore, showing them what he had found. No one said anything. Not yet. Not now. Though the pages of the book were soaked through, they could all tell that someone had written inside.

The boat hit the port again. _Thud._