THE DEMETER'S FINAL VOYAGE: Dracula's Deadliest Chapter

When the Russian schooner Demeter drifted into Whitby harbor with its dead captain lashed to the wheel and its entire crew missing, the ship's log revealed a horrifying truth: something ancient and evil had been hunting them one by one across the dark waters. The final entries, written in the captain's trembling hand, chronicle the crew's descent from unease to terror as they realize their cargo of fifty earth-filled boxes conceals a predator that feeds in the night and cannot be killed.

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SOURCES AND REFERENCES FROM THE EPISODE…
BOOK: “The Last Voyage of Demeter” by Bram Stoker: https://amzn.to/3KZnJ0z
BOOK: “Dracula” (full novel) by Bram Stoker: https://amzn.to/44sXcj4
=====(Over time links may become invalid, disappear, or have different content. I always make sure to give authors credit for the material I use whenever possible. If I somehow overlooked doing so for a story, or if a credit is incorrect, please let me know and I will rectify it in these show notes immediately. Some links included above may benefit me financially through qualifying purchases.)= = = = ="I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness." — John 12:46= = = = =WeirdDarkness® is a registered trademark. Copyright ©2025, Weird Darkness.=====Originally aired: August 24, 2023
EPISODE PAGE at WeirdDarkness.com (includes list of sources): https://weirddarkness.com/LastVoyageOfDemeter
ABOUT WEIRD DARKNESS: Weird Darkness is a true crime and paranormal podcast narrated by professional award-winning voice actor, Darren Marlar. Seven days per week, Weird Darkness focuses on all thing strange and macabre such as haunted locations, unsolved mysteries, true ghost stories, supernatural manifestations, urban legends, unsolved or cold case murders, conspiracy theories, and more. On Thursdays, this scary stories podcast features horror fiction along with the occasional creepypasta. Weird Darkness has been named one of the “Best 20 Storytellers in Podcasting” by Podcast Business Journal. Listeners have described the show as a cross between “Coast to Coast” with Art Bell, “The Twilight Zone” with Rod Serling, “Unsolved Mysteries” with Robert Stack, and “In Search Of” with Leonard Nimoy.DISCLAIMER: Ads heard during the podcast that are not in my voice are placed by third party agencies outside of my control and should not imply an endorsement by Weird Darkness or myself. *** Stories and content in Weird Darkness can be disturbing for some listeners and intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised.
#DraculaShipLog #LastVoyageOfDemeter #VampireHorrorStory #GothicLiterature #ClassicHorrorTales

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:07):
Gone from My sight? Or Parable of Immortality, a poem
by Luther F. Beecher. I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to
the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She
is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand

(00:30):
and watch her until she hangs like a speck of
white cloud, just where a sea and sky come down
to meet and mingle with each other. Then someone at
my side says, there she's gone. Gone, Where gone from
my sight? That is all. She is just as large

(00:51):
in mast and hull and spar as she was when
she left my side, and just is able to bear
her load of freight to the place of her destination.
Her diminished size is in me and not in her.
And just at that moment when someone at my side
says there she's gone, there are other eyes that are

(01:15):
watching for her coming, and other voices ready to take
up the glad shout there she comes, And that is dying.
Often attributed to Henry Van Dyke. Welcome Weirdos. I'm Darren Marler,

(01:52):
and this is weird Darkness. Here you'll find stories of
the paranormal, supernatural legends, lore, the strange and bizarre crime, conspiracy, mysterious, macabre,
unsolved and unexplained. The Last Voyage of Demeter is an

(02:12):
extract from the most terrifying vampire fiction in literary history,
Bramstoker's Dracula from eighteen ninety seven. The Thrilling novel is
a Gothic horror classic written in apostolary form through a
series of journal entries, newspaper articles, and correspondents. This is
the book's suspenseful chapter seven, delving into the final sea

(02:36):
voyage of Demeter, the Russian ship unknowingly carrying Transylvania's undead
Count Dracula. When a ghost ship arrives in Whitby Harbor,
the locals search for clues about how the doomed vessel's
crew vanished. Soon, the captain's log is discovered, but the
translated correspondence does nothing more than strike terror in the

(02:57):
hearts of all who read it. Before its final destination,
strange and supernatural events began haunting the ship. The captain
started keeping a log to record the death, darkness, and
fear that had taken a hold of his crew. Of course,
the Last Voyage of the Demeter was also recently made

(03:17):
into a film, but we're working from the original writings
of Bram Stoker here, not a movie script. Now vult
your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and
come with me into the weird darkness. From a correspondent Whitby.

(03:51):
One of the greatest and suddenest storms on record has
just been experienced here, with results both strange and unique.
Whether it been somewhat sultry, but not to any degree
uncommon in the month of August. Saturday evening was as
fine as was ever known, and the great body of
holidaymakers laid out yesterday for visits to Mulgrave Woods, robin

(04:14):
Hood's Bay, Rick Mill, Runswick States, and the various trips
in the neighborhood of Whitby. The steamers Emma and Scarborough
made trips up and down the coast, and there was
an unusual amount of tripping both to and from Whitby.
The day was unusually fine till the afternoon, when some
of the gossips who frequent the East Cliff Churchyard and

(04:36):
from that commanding eminence, watched the wide sweep of sea
visible to the north and east, called attention to a
sudden show of mayre's tails high in the sky to
the northwest. The wind was then blowing from the southwest
in the mild degree, which in barometrical language is ranked
number two light breeze. The coastguard on duty at once

(04:58):
made report, and one old fish shuremen who for more
than half a century has kept watch on weather signs
from the east cliff foretold in an emphatic manner the
coming of a sudden storm. The approach of sunset was
so very beautiful, so grand in its masses of splendidly
colored clouds, that there was quite an assemblage on the

(05:18):
walk along the cliff in the old churchyard to enjoy
the beauty before the sun dipped below the black mass
of Kettleness, standing boldly athwart the western sky. Its downward
way was marked by myriad clouds of every sunset color, flame, purple, pink, green, violet,
and all the tints of gold, with here and there

(05:40):
masses not large, but of seemingly absolute blackness in all
sorts of shapes, as well as outlined as colossal silhouettes.
The experience was not lost on the painters, and doubtless
some of the sketches of the Prelude to the Great
Storm will grace, the ra and r eye walls in
may next. More than one captain made up his mind

(06:02):
then and there that his cobble or his mule, as
they termed the different classes of boats, would remain in
the harbor till the storm had passed. The wind fell
away entirely during the evening, and at midnight there was
a dead calm, a sultry heat, and that prevailing intensity
which on the approach of thunder affects persons of a

(06:24):
sensitive nature. There were but few lights in sight at
the sea, for even the coasting steamers, which usually hug
the shore so closely, kept well to seaward, and but
few fishing boats were in sight. The only sail noticeable
was a foreign schooner with all sails set, which was

(06:44):
seemingly going westwards. The foolhardiness or ignorance of her officers
was a prolific theme for comment whilst she remained in sight,
and efforts were made to signal her to reduce sail
in face of her danger. Before the night sh shut down,
she was seen with sails idly flapping as she gently
rolled on the undulating swell of the sea, as idle

(07:07):
as a painted ship upon a painted ocean. Shortly before
ten o'clock, the stillness of the air grew quite oppressive,
and the silence was so marked that the bleeding of
a sheep inland, or the barking of a dog in
the town was distinctly heard, and the band on the pier,
with its lively French air, was like a discord in

(07:29):
the great harmony of nature's silence. A little after midnight
came a strange sound from over the sea, and high
overhead the air began to carry a strange, faint, hollow booming. Then,
without warning, the tempest broke with a rapidity which at
the time seemed incredible, and even afterwards it is impossible

(07:52):
to realize the whole aspect of nature at once became convulsed.
The waves rose in growing fury, each overtopping its fellow,
till in a very few minutes the lately glassy sea
was like a roaring and devouring monster. White crested waves
beat madly on the level sands and rushed up the

(08:12):
shelving cliffs. Others broke over the piers, and with their
spume swept the lanthorns of the lighthouses which rise from
the end of either pier of Whitby harbor. The wind
roared like thunder and blew with such force that it
was with difficulty that even strong men kept their feet
or clung with grim clasp to the iron stanchions. It

(08:34):
was found necessary to clear the entire piers from the
mass of onlookers, or else the fatalities of the night
would have been increased. Manifold. To add to the difficulties
and dangers of the time, masses of sea fog came
drifting inland, white wet clouds, which swept by in ghostly fashion,
so dank and damp and cold that it needed but

(08:57):
little effort of imagination to think that the spirits of
these lost at sea, or touching their living brethren with
the clammy hands of death. And many a wand shuddered
as the wreaths of sea mists swept by. At times
the mist cleared, and the sea for some distance could
be seen in the glare of the lightning, which now
came thick and fast, followed by such sudden peals of

(09:20):
thunder that the whole sky overhead seemed trembling under the
shock of the footsteps of the storm. Some of the
scenes thus revealed were of immeasurable grandeur and of absorbing interest.
The sea running mountains high through skywards with each wave,
mighty masses of white foam, which the tempest seemed to

(09:41):
snatch at and whirl away into space. Here and there
a fishing boat with a rag of sail, running madly
for shelter before the blast. Now and again, the white
wings of a storm tossed sea bird on the summit
of the East Cliff. The new searchlight was ready for experiment,
but had not yet been tried. The officers in charge
of it got it in working order, and in the

(10:03):
pauses of the inrushing mist, swept with it the surface
of the sea once or twice. Its service was most
effective as when a fishing boat with gunwale under water
rushed into the harbor, able by the guidance of the
sheltering light to avoid the danger of dashing against the piers.
As each boat achieved the safety of the port, there

(10:24):
was a shout of joy from the mass of people
on shore, a shout which for a moment seemed to
cleave the gale, and was then swept away in its rush.
Before long the searchlight discovered, some distance away a schooner
with all sails set, apparently the same vessel which had
been noticed earlier in the evening. The wind had by

(10:45):
this time backed to the east, and there was a
shudder amongst the watchers on the cliff as they realized
the terrible danger in which she now was. Between her
and the port lay the great flat reef on which
so many good ships had from time to time suffered,
and with the wind blowing from its present quarter, it
would be quite impossible that she should fetch the entrance

(11:07):
of the harbor. It was now nearly the hour of
high time, but the waves were so great that in
their troughs the shallows of the shore were almost visible,
and the schooner, with all sails set, was rushing with
such speed that, in the words of one old salt,
she must fetch up somewhere, if it was only in hell.
Then came another rush of sea fog greater than any

(11:30):
hitherto a mass of dank missed, which seemed to close
on all things like a gray pall, and left available
to men only the organ of hearing for the roar
of the tempest, and the crash of the thunder, and
the booming of the mighty billows came through the damp oblivion,
even louder than before. The rays of the searchlight were

(11:50):
kept fixed on the harbor mouth across the east pier,
where the shock was expected, and men waited breathless. The
wind suddenly shifted to the northeast, and the remnant of
the sea fog melted in the blast, and then Mirabile
dictu between the piers, leaping from wave to wave as
it rushed at headlong speed, swept the strange schooner before

(12:13):
the blast, with all sails set, and gained the safety
of the harbor. The searchlight followed her, and a shudder
ran through all who saw her, for lashed to the
helm was a corpse with drooping head, which swung horribly
to and fro at each motion of the ship. No
other form could be seen on deck at all. A

(12:36):
great awe came on all as they realized that the ship,
as if by a miracle, had found the harbor unsteered,
save by the hand of a dead man. However, all
took place more quickly than it takes to write these words.
The scooner paused, not but rushing across the harbor, pitched
herself on that accumulation of sand and gravel washed by

(12:58):
many tides and many storms into the southeast corner of
the pier jutting under the east cliff, known locally as
Tate Hill Pier. There was of course a considerable concussion
as the vessel drove up on the sand heap. Every spar,
rope and stay was strained, and some of the top
hammer came crashing down. But strangest of all, the very

(13:21):
instant the shore was touched, an immense dog sprang up
on deck from below, as if shot up by the concussion,
and running for were jumped from the bow on the sand,
making straight for the steep cliff where the church yard
hangs over the lane way to the east pier. So
steeply that some of the flat tombstones thruff steams or

(13:42):
through stones as they call them in the Whitby vernacular,
actually project over where the sustaining cliff has fallen away.
It disappeared in the darkness, which seemed intensified just beyond
the focus of searchlight. It so happened that there was
no one at the moment on Tate Hill Peer, as
all those whose houses are in close proximity were either

(14:03):
in bed or were out on the heights above. Thus
the coast guard on duty on the eastern side of
the harbor, who at once ran down to the little pier,
was the first to climb on board. The men working
the searchlight, after scouring the entrance of the harbor without
seeing anything, then turned the light on the derelict and

(14:24):
kept it there. The coast guard ran aft, and when
he came beside the wheel, bent over to examine it,
and recoiled at once, as though under some sudden emotion.
This seemed to pique general curiosity, and quite a number
of people began to run. It is a good way
round from the west cliff by the drawbridge to Tate

(14:46):
Hill Pier, but your correspondent is a fairly good runner
and came well ahead of the crowd. When I arrived, however,
I found already assembled on the pier, a crowd whom
the coast guard and police refused to allow to come
on board. By the courtesy of the chief boatman, I was,
as your correspondent, permitted to climb on deck, and was

(15:06):
one of a small group who saw the dead seaman
whilst actually lashed to the wheel. It was no wonder
that the coast guard was surprised, or even odd for
not often can such a sight have been seen. The
man was simply fastened by his hands, tied one over
the other to a spoke of the wheel. Between the

(15:29):
inner hand and the wood was a crucifix, the set
of beads on which it was fastened being around both
wrists and wheel, it all kept fast by the binding cords.
The poor fellow may have been seated at one time,
but the flapping and buffeting of the sails had worked
through the rudder of the wheel and dragged him to
and fro, so that the cords with which he was

(15:51):
tied had cut the flesh to the bone. Accurate note
was made of the state of things, and a doctor,
surgeon J. M. Caffin, of thirty three East Elliott Place,
who came immediately after me, declared, after making examination that
the man must have been dead for quite two days.
In his pocket was a bottle carefully courked, empty save

(16:13):
for a little roll of paper, which proved to be
the addendum to the log. The coastguard said the man
must have tied up his own hands, fastening the knots
with his teeth. The fact that a coast guard was
the first on board, may save some complications later on
in the Admiralty court, where coast guards cannot claim the salvage,
which is the right of the first civilian entering on

(16:35):
a derelict. Already, however, the legal tongues are wagging, and
one young law student is loudly asserting that the rights
of the owner are already completely sacrificed, his property being
held in contravention of the statutes of mortmain. Since the
tiller as emblemship, if not proof of delegated possession, is
held at a dead hand, it is needless to say

(16:58):
that the dead steersman has been reverently removed from the
place where he held his honorable watch and ward till death,
steadfastness as noble as that of the young Casablanca, and
placed in the mortuary to await inquest. Already, sudden storm
is passing, and its fierceness is abating. Crowds are scattering homeward,

(17:21):
and the sky is beginning to redden over the Yorkshire Wolds.
I shall send in time for your next issue further
details of the derelict ship which found her way so
miraculously into harbor in the storm whitby nine August. The
sequel to the strange arrival of the derelict in the

(17:42):
storm last night is almost more startling than the thing itself.
Turns out that the schooner is a Russian from Varna.
It is called the Demeter. She is almost entirely in
ballast of silver sand, with only a small amount of
cargo a number of great wooden boxes filled with mold.
This cargo was consigned to a whitby Solicitor mister S. F.

(18:06):
Billington of seven the Crescent, who this morning when a
board and formally took possession of the goods consigned to him.
The Russian consul, too, acting for the charter party, took
formal possession of the ship and paid all harbor dues, etc.
Nothing is talked about here today except the strange coincidence.
The officials of the Board of Trade have been most exacting,

(18:28):
and seeing that every compliance has been made with existing regulations.
As the matter is to be a nine days wonder,
they are evidently determined that there shall be no cause
of after complaint. A good deal of interest was abroad
concerning the dog which landed when the ship struck, and
more than a few of the members of the SPCA,

(18:48):
which is very strong in Whitby, have tried to befriend
the animal, to the general disappointment, however, it was not
to be found. Seems to have disappeared entirely from the town.
Maybe that it was frightened and made its way on
to the moors, where it's still hiding in terror. There
are some who look with dread on such a possibility,

(19:10):
lest later on it should itself become a danger, for
it is evidently a fierce brute. Early this morning, a
large dog, a half bred mastiff, belonging to a coal
merchant close to Tate Hill Pier, was found dead in
the roadway opposite to its master's yard. It had been
fighting and manifestly had had a savage opponent, for its
throat was torn away and its belly was slit open,

(19:32):
as if with a savage claw. Later, by the kindness
of the Board of Trade Inspector, I've been permitted to
look over the log book of the Demeter, which was
in order up to within three days, but contained nothing
of special interest except as to facts of missing men.
The greatest interest, however, is with regard to the paper

(19:54):
found in the bottle which was today produced at the inquest,
and a more strange narrative than the tube between them unfold.
It has not been my lot to come across. As
there is no motive for concealment. I am permitted to
use them, and accordingly send you a rescript simply omitting
technical details of seamanship and super cargo. It almost seems

(20:19):
as though the captain had been seized with some kind
of mania before he had got well into blue water,
and that this had developed persistently throughout the voyage. Of course,
my statement must be taken cum grano, since I'm writing
from the dictation of a clerk of the Russian consul,
who kindly translated for me time being short log of

(21:03):
the demeter Varna de Whitby written eighteen July. Things so
strange happening that I shall keep accurate note henceforth till
we land. On six July. We finished taking in cargo,
silver sand and boxes of earth. At noon, set sail
east wind fresh crewe, five hands, two mates, cook and

(21:27):
myself captain. On eleven July, at dawn, entered Bosphorus bordered
by Turkish customs officers. Backsheish all correct underway at four
pm on twelve July through Dardanell's more customs officers and
flagboat of guarding squadron Backsheesh again. Work of officers thorough

(21:50):
but quick, want us off soon at dark. Passed into archipelago.
On thirteen July, passed Cape Matapon dissatisfied about something, seemed scared,
but would not speak out. On fourteen July, was somewhat
anxious about Crewe men. All steady fellows who sailed with

(22:12):
me before. Mat could not make out what was wrong.
They only told him there was something and crossed themselves.
Mat lost temper with one of them that day and
struck him. Expected fierce quarrel, but all was quiet. On
sixteen July, Mate reported in the morning that one of

(22:32):
Crewe Petrovsky, it's missing, could not account for it. Took
larboard watch eight bells last night. Was relieved by Abramoth,
but did not go to bunk men more downcast than ever,
All said they expected something of the kind, but would
not say more than there was something aboard. Maate, getting

(22:52):
very impatient with them, feared some trouble ahead. On seventeen July,
yesterday one of the men o'garn came to my cabin and,
in an awestruck way, infided to me that he thought
there was a strange man aboard the ship. He said
that in his watch, he'd been sheltering behind the deck house.
Says there was a rainstorm when he saw a tall,

(23:15):
thin man who was not like any of the crew
come up the companion way and go along the deck
forward and disappear. He followed cautiously, but when he got
to bows found no one, and the hatchways were all closed.
He was in a panic of superstitious fear, and I'm
afraid the panic may spread to ally it. I shall

(23:35):
today search an entire ship carefully from stem to stern.
Later in the day I got together the whole crew
and told them, as they evidently thought there was someone
in the ship, we would search from stem to stern.
First made angry, said it was folly, and to yield
to such foolish ideas would demoralize the men. Said he

(23:55):
would engage to keep them out of trouble with a handspike.
I let him take the helm while the rest began
thorough search, all keeping abreast with lanterns. We left no
corner unsearched, as there were only the big wooden boxes.
There were no odd corners where a man could hide.
Men much relieved when search over and went back to
work cheerfully. First mate scowled but said nothing. Twenty second July.

(24:23):
Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy with sails,
no time to be frightened. Men seemed to have forgotten
their dread mate. Cheerful again, and all on good terms
praised men for work in bad weather, passed Gibraltar and
out through Straits all well. Twenty four July. There seems

(24:45):
some doom over this ship, already a hand short and
entering on the Bay of Biscay, with wild weather ahead.
And yet last night another man lost disappeared like the first.
He came off his watch and was not seen again.
Men all in a panic of fear, sent around Robin
asking to have double watch, as they fear to be

(25:07):
alone mate, angry fear there'll be some trouble, as either
he or the men will do some violence. Twenty eight July.
Four days in hell, knocking about in sort of maelstrom
and the wind of a tempest. No sleep for anyone.
Men all worn out, hardly know how to set a watch,

(25:30):
since no one fit to go on. Second mate volunteered
to steer and watch and let men snatch a few
hours sleep wind debating sees still terrific, but feel them
less as ship is steadier. Twenty nine July, another tragedy
had single watch tonight as crew too tired to double.

(25:53):
When morning watch came on deck to find no one
except steersman raised outcry and all came on deck ro search,
but no one found. Are now without second mate and
crew in a panic, Mate and I agreed to go
armed henceforth and wait for any sign of cause. Thirty July.

(26:16):
Last night, rejoiced were nearing England, weather fine, all sails set, retired,
worn out, slept soundly, awakened by Mate telling me that
both man of watch and steers been missing. Only self
and mate in two hands left to workship. One August,

(26:40):
two days of fog and not a sail sighted. Had
hoped when in the English Channel to be able to
signal for help or get in somewhere. Not having power
to work, sails have to run before wind dare not
lower as could not raise them again. We seem to
be drifting to some terrible doom. Mat now more demoralized

(27:03):
than either of men. His stronger nature seems to have
worked inwardly against himself. Men are beyond fear, working stotledly
and patiently, with minds made up to worst. They are Russian.
He Romanian. Two August midnight woke up from a few

(27:25):
minutes sleep by hearing a cry seemingly outside my port.
Could see nothing in fog. Rushed on deck and ran
against Mate tells me, heard cry and ran, but no
sign of man on watch. One more gone, Lord help us.
Mate says we must be pass straits of Dover, as

(27:46):
in a moment of fog lifting he saw northforland, just
as he heard the man cry out. If so, we
are now off in the North Sea, and only God
can guide us in the fog which seems to move
with us, and God seems to have deserted us. Three August,

(28:06):
at midnight, I went to relieve the man at the wheel.
When I got to it, I found no one there.
The wind was steady, and as we ran before it
there was no yawing. I dared not leave it, so
shouted for the mate. After a few seconds he rushed
up on deck in his flannels. He looked wild eyed
and haggard, and I greatly fear his reason has given way.

(28:28):
He came close to me and whispered hoarsely with his
mouth to my ear, as though fearing the very air
might hear. It is here. I know it now. On
the watch last night I saw it like a man,
tall and thin and ghastly pale. It was in the boughs,
and looking out. I crept behind it and gave it
my knife. But the knife went through it, empty as

(28:50):
the air. As he spoke and took his knife and
drove it savagely into space. Then he went on, but
it is here, and I'll find it. It is in
the hold, perhaps in one of those boxes. I'll unscrew
them one by one and see you work the helm.
And with a warning look and his finger on his lip,

(29:11):
he went below. There was springing up choppy wind, and
I could not leave the helm. I saw him come
out on deck again with a tool chest and a lantern,
and go down the forward hatchway. He is mad, stark,
raving mad. It's no use my trying to help him.

(29:31):
He can't hurt those big boxes. They're invoiced as clay,
and to pull them about is as harmless a thing
as he can do. So here I stay and mind
the helm and write these notes. I can only trust
in God and wait till the fog clears. Then, if
I can't steer to any harbor with the wind that is,

(29:52):
I shall cut down sails and lie by and signal
for help. It's nearly all over now. Just as I
was beginning to hope that the mate would come out calmer,
for I had heard him knocking away at something in
the hold, and work is good for him, there came
up the hatchway a sudden, startled scream, which made my

(30:13):
blood run cold. And up on the deck he came,
as if shot from a gun, a raging madman, with
his eyes rolling at his face, convulsed with fear. Save me,
Save me, he cried, and then looked round on the
blanket of fog. His horror turned to despair, and in
a steady voice, he said, you had better come too, Captain,

(30:34):
before it is too late. He is there. I know
the secret. Now the sea will save me from him,
and it is all that is left. Before I could
say a word or move forward to seize him, he
sprang on the bulwark and deliberately threw himself into the sea.
I suppose I know the secret too. Now it was

(30:56):
this madman who got rid of the men one by one,
and now he followed them himself. God help me, How
am I to account for all these horrors when I
get to port. When I get to port, will that
ever be? For August still fog which the sunrise cannot pierce.

(31:22):
I know there is sunrise because I am a sailor.
Why else I know not. I dared not go below,
I dared not leave the helm. So here all night
I stayed, and in the dimness of the night I
saw it him. God forgive me. But the mate was
right to jump overboard. It was better to die like

(31:44):
a man, to die like a sailor in blue water.
No man can object. But I am captain. Then I
must not leave my ship. But I shall baffle this
fiend or monster. Or I shall tie my hands to
the wheel when my strength begins to face, and along
with them, I shall tie that which he it dare

(32:05):
not touch. And then come good wind or foul, I
shall save my soul and my honor. As captain. I'm
growing weaker, and the night is coming on. If he
can look me in the face again, I may not
have time to act. If we are wrecked, may have
this bottle be found, and those who find it may understand.

(32:28):
If not well, then all men shall know that I
have been true to my trust. God and the Blessed Virgin,
and the Saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to
do his duty. Of course, the verdict was an open one.

(32:52):
There's no evidence to adduce, and whether or not the
man himself committed the murders, there is now none to say.
Here hold almost universally that the captain is simply a hero,
and he is to be given a public funeral. Already
it is arranged that his body is to be taken
with a train of boats up the Esque for a piece,

(33:12):
and then brought back to Tate Hill here and up
the abbey steps, for he's to be buried in the
churchyard on the cliff. The owners of more than a
hundred boats have already given in their names as wishing
to follow him to the grave. No trace has ever
been found of the great dog, at which there is
much mourning, For with public opinion in its present state,

(33:35):
he would, I believe, be adopted by the town tomorrow
we'll see the funeral, and so will end this one
more mystery of the sea Mina Murray's journal, eight August.

(34:18):
Lucy was very restless all night, and I too could
not sleep. The storm was fearful, and as it boomed
loudly among the chimney pots, made me shudder. When a
sharp puff came, it seemed to be like a distant gun.
Strangely enough, Lucy did not wake, but she got up
twice and dressed herself. Fortunately each time I awoke in

(34:42):
time and managed to undress her without waking her, and
got her back to bed. It is a very strange thing,
this sleep walking, for as soon as her will is
thwarted in any physical way, for intention, if there be any, disappears,
and she yields herself almost a exactly to the routine
of her life. Early in the morning we both got

(35:05):
up and went down to the harbor to see if
anything had happened in the night. There were very few
people about, and though the sun was bright and the
air clear and fresh, the big, grim looking waves that
seemed dark themselves because the foam that topped them was
like snow, forced themselves in through the narrow mouth of

(35:25):
the harbor like a bullying man going through a crowd.
Somehow I felt glad that Jonathan was not on the
sea last night, but on land. But oh is he
on land or sea? Where is he? And how I'm
getting fearfully anxious about him? If I only knew what

(35:46):
to do and could do anything. Ten August. The funeral
of the poor sea captain today was most touching. Every
boat in the harbor seemed to be there, and the
coffin was carried by captains all the way from Tate
Hill Pier up to the churchyard. Lucy came with me

(36:07):
and we went early to our old seat, whilst the
cordage boats went up the river to the viaduct and
came down again. We had a lovely view and saw
the procession nearly all the way. The poor fellow was
laid to rest quite near our seat, so that we
stood on it when the time came and saw everything.
Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She was restless and uneasy

(36:31):
all the time, and I cannot but think that her
dreaming at night is telling on her. She's quite odd
in one thing. She will not admit to me that
there is any cause for restlessness, or if there be,
she does not understand it herself. There is an additional cause,
and that poor old mister Swales was found dead this

(36:52):
morning on our seat, his neck broken. He had evidently,
as the doctor said, fallen back in the seat in
some sort of fright. For there was a look of
fear and horror on his face that the men said
made them shudder. Poor dear old man. Perhaps he had
seen death with his dying eyes. Lucy is so sweet

(37:14):
and sensitive that she feels influences more acutely than other
people do. Just now, she was quite upset by a
little thing, which I did not much heed, though I
am myself very fond of animals. One of the men
who came up here often to look for the boats
was followed by his dog. The dog is always with him.

(37:34):
They're both quiet persons, and I never saw the man
angry nor heard the dog bark. During the service. The
dog would not come to its master, who was on
the seat with us, but kept a few yards off,
barking and howling. Its master spoke to it gently, and
then harshly, and then angrily, but it would neither come

(37:55):
nor cease to make a noise. It was in a
sort of fury, with its eyes savage, and all its
hairs bristling out like a cat's tail when Puss is
on the warpath. Finally, the man too got angry, and
jumped down and kicked the dog, and then took it
by the scruff of the neck, and half dragged and
half through it on the tombstone on which the seat

(38:17):
is fixed. The moment it touched the stone, the poor
thing became quiet and fell all into a tremble. It
did not try to get away, but crouched down, quivering
and cowering, and was in such a pitiable state of
terror that I tried, though without effect, to comfort it.

(38:38):
Lucy was full of pity, too, but she did not
attempt to touch the dog, but looked at it in
an agonized sort of way. I greatly fear that she
is too super sensitive in nature to go through the
world without trouble. She will be dreaming of this tonight,
I'm sure the whole agglomeration of things. The ship steered
into port by a dead man, his attitude tied to

(39:01):
the wheel with a crucifix and beads. The touching funeral.
The dog, now furious, and now in terror will all
afford material for her dreams. I think it will be
best for her to go to bed tired out physically,
so I shall take her for a long walk by
the cliffs to robin Hood's Bay and back. She ought

(39:22):
not to have much inclination for sleepwalking. Then thanks for listening.

(40:02):
If you like the show, please share it with someone
you know who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters,
or unsolved mysteries like you do. Last Voyage of Demeter
was written by Bram Stoker. I have links to both
this and the full Dracula novel in the show notes.
Weird Darkness is a registered trademark copyright Weird Darkness. And

(40:25):
now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave
you with a little light Leviticus seventeen, verses ten through twelve.
If any one of the House of Israel, or of
the strangers whose sojourn among them, eats any blood, I
will set my face against that person who eats blood,
and will cut him off from among his people. For
the life of the flesh is in the blood, and

(40:47):
I have given it for you on the altar, to
make atonement for your souls. For it is the blood
that makes atonement by the life. Therefore, I have said
to the people of Israel, no person among you shall
eat blood, neither shall any ranger who sojourns among you
eat blood. And a final thought. Everyone knows the phenomenon

(41:07):
of trying to hold your breath underwater. How at first
it's all right and you can handle it, And then
as it gets closer and closer to the time when
you must breathe, how urgent the need becomes the lust
and the hunger to breathe, and then the panic sets
in when you begin to think that you won't be
able to breathe, And finally when you take in air

(41:27):
and the anxiety subsides. That's what it's like to be
a vampire and need blood. Francis Ford Coppola. And a
final final thought. I have never met a vampire personally,
but I don't know what might happen tomorrow. Bella Legosy,

(41:48):
I'm Darren Marler. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.
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