May 12, 1774
I have just gotten onto my ship with my platoon; apparently things are getting bad in the colonies over in the new land, so I have been sent to help against the rebels. My damn hand still aches, that quack sent me with more of that moronic medicine that he claims will help keep the infection down. All I have gotten is a headache, and it isn’t from the infection, that’s for sure. Lately, however, I have been hungry for meat, but finding anything decent enough to eat is still rare. Maybe, when we stop in London to refit the men, I’ll make my way over to Mrs. Lovett’s meat pie emporium, she always has those nice, juicy meat pies.
May 20, 1774
Apparently the Captain was told that we would be going on a straight trip to the new lands and we would be refitted there. All we have to eat on the way there is the half rotted fruit that was gathered in Africa. I swear that cook managed to smuggle some meat onboard for himself, I can smell it. I don’t know what that stuff the doctor gave me is, but now my hand keeps swelling, If I ever see that doctor again I’m going to kill him.
May 25, 1774
Stormy day, I smell meat everywhere, but now I know what it is. I lost control last night, ripped out the neck of one of my own men. I regained control of myself after ripping open the insides of the man. I was eating his entrails like some kind of beast. The worst part of it was the man was still moving, though he should have been dead. I tossed him overboard to avoid detection. I’ll blame it on the spirits we have onboard, I can only hope this doesn’t happen again, though I am still starving.
May 26, 1774
It happened again, but this time, I felt the mind of the man after I tore him open. I am not going to just throw him overboard like the last one, we are only two days from the new land, but we are going to need some meat to hold us over. I am losing my sense of myself more; I can barely focus long enough to hold a quill to put my thoughts down. The smell is driving me mad with hunger.
“Sir, this is the end of it, the captain’s log only verifies what is written down on these pages. As you can see, it appears that these things track by smell.” said the man who survived the mission to retrieve the diary from the ship. He was in the room talking to George Washington and Benjamin Franklin, both of whom were trying to find a way to use the information to their advantage. “I have an idea, Mr. Washington.” said Benjamin Franklin after pondering for a moment.