The calling

Fog settles over the water. Obscurity before vision, impairing primary senses.
The water is eeringly still, not even wavelets lapping at the sides of the boat.
A smell of rotting rests upon the water, it is sickening. As if the water had been stagnant for months, no new life, not even in the byproducts of the cycleless festering.
The captain is hesitant, visible unsure of his own actions. I pity the fool. He's leading us all to our doom.
He bends his head, listening intently. That's all we have out here, the sounds and the gut. Noses are clogged with decay, eyes milky with the veil drawn in front of them and nothing but the taste of a dry, parched mouth.
What is that fool listening for? Or, worse, what is he listening to! He's listening like the lives on this fate-weighted vessel depend on his two last remaining senses. Listening, for the call of doom.
Why doesn't he just use his gut? Why don't we throw anchor and wait for the fog to rise? I sense he's been here before, in this same situation. Maybe this captain is not so much a fool as he is our saviour.
I hear it! Its beautiful! A voice, like ambrosia, sweetly deadly. Where is it coming from? She loves me! She loves me alone! Her song makes her dreamingly intriguing, creating images of serenity, untainted splendour.
I must find this voice, find the origin of this honey for ears, find the source of this pleasure forthcoming. She is so close, I can almost feel her. Feel her breath on my neck and in my ear, prickling the hairs on my anticipative skin like a cold, fresh wind.
Where is she? Why does she sing so? She's lonely! She's hurt! I must help her. She's in danger. I'm coming! I'll save you!
The captain hears her too. He wants her all to himself. I won't let him.
Captain, why do you draw your musket?
Put it down, or I'll gut you, you selfish seadog. She's mine. She only loves me.
Captain, why did you pull the trigger?
I'm bleeding, my hand extended before me is warm from the blood running down my arm.
Before it fades to black, I realise that the fog has lifted, revealing our collective doom.
Our captain, you saved me from a guilt ridden hell, but you have cursed yourself by taking my life. Thank you.
The light fades, eyelid's close. I smile as I realise I can hear the wavelets caressing the soft belly of our boat once again. Such a soothing sound it is. I could fall asleep to this rhythym. Sleep and dream, and never wake.