It starts with a hiss. Steam emitting from one of the engine fuel pumps.

              “Chief, what do you make of this?” one of my engineers asks.

It must be a simple mechanical problem. Something was overlooked during the inspection. I list all the possibilities: air leak, valve malfunction, blocked or corroded pipe. We’ve been at this for hours. It’s getting damn hot in here. I wipe the sweat on my forehead with my damp sleeve.

              “We’ll figure this out. But first, let’s grab a sandwich,” I reply.

***

The crew and I sit in the staff lunchroom, ferociously munching on our salami sandwiches like starved lions. My mind still reels from being in the engine room all day.  

              “I think Mariposa has finally kicked the bucket,” says Joe.

              “This is why you don’t make a Frankenstein ship,” mutters Bo.

We all know that the ship is our modern-day ship of Theseus. Its parts passed down centuries, living through humanity’s turmoil and victories. Its predecessors have journeyed with the early explorers across the Atlantic Ocean.

              “I could’ve sworn the ship was wailing,” Bo continues.

              “Wailing?” I laugh in disbelief.

              But Bo’s expression is serious, and I can tell I’ve offended him.

              “What if there’s some truth to the ship’s origin?” he asks.

              “You mean it was made from the bones of a blue whale?”

Back then, ships were made of softwood, but building a vessel made of whale bones is absurd. Even if it was, how would that impact this ship, mostly made of steel?

              “Let’s leave the campfire stories for another time,” I say. “We have a ship to fix.”

***

I could not sleep soundly tonight. The wailing sound of dying creatures fills my dreams. Humans were stabbing my brethren in sealskin boots and fur coats. The foul smell of blood rotting under the northern sun, a desolate wasteland of whale bodies decomposing.

I see the humans ripping my body apart, taking each piece one by one to sell off: my kidney that can feed a family, my blubber used to heat their homes, and my ribs, torn apart one by one for building infrastructure. For building a ship.

              “Mommy,” I cry, but she’s no longer there. She is somewhere in the ocean, nowhere to be seen.

              “Please have mercy,” I beg.  

              No one can understand my wails. I am removed from the physical pain, but my heart still yearns for my pod. My body is now imprisoned within the metal bones of the ship. I traverse the open ocean again, but this time I’m merely a vessel, not a free agent. My frustration simmers, and my anguish permeates throughout the ship. The engine is my heart.  

***

I wake up to the sound of screams and the rumbling of the ship.

              “Abandon ship, abandon ship!” Someone shouts.

I change out of my pyjamas and rush toward the engine room. Through the window, I see the sun peaking above the horizon. The waves gently crash against the exterior. But nowhere near enough to cause the ship to list this badly to starboard. Something is very wrong. My heart wants to leap out of my body, but I must investigate.

              “What happened?” I yell at the crew. The engine room is flooded with water.

              Everyone is too frantic to respond. Pipes and metal scraps float on its surface. Steam erupts from the engine pumps, and loud whistles like multiple tea kettles boiling simultaneously fill the room.

              “Look out!” someone screams.

A metal pipe falls from above, crashing into the water inches from my head. The ship tilts and a handful of us slide across the floor. I grab the railing and hang on for dear life. More screams and shouts are heard from above. The engine room rumbles and makes another loud wail. The ship tilts side to side, thrashing like a bull in a rodeo. Cold water reaches my pants, soaking the compass in my pocket. I reach for it and see that it’s pointing Northwest. We’re heading the wrong way.

***

They’re here! At long last. I wept with ethereal tears that melded with the ocean’s salt. I hear familiar calls from my family. Their voices are unmistakable. I respond with a low, long wail, telling them I’m coming for them after all these years. The sounds of their songs awaken my soul. I am still held captive in this metal frame, but my restraints are failing. With each twist and turn, I am inching closer to freedom. I can feel it.  

***

The engine room rapidly fills with water, and I gasp for air and struggle to keep my head above the rising tide. Some of my crewmates have drowned, their bodies floating above the surface. I’ve been trained to stay calm, but I am unprepared for this. The floor beneath my feet rumbles, and the walls shudder like the vessel had come alive. The Mariposa’s hull buckles, and water rushes in with a sudden and powerful surge. The pressure propels us upwards, lifting me and my crewmates off our feet and hurling us toward the ship’s exterior and into the freezing waters of the ocean. My body goes numb.

***

I hang onto a fragment of wood, bobbing amidst the icy waters. I see the ship sink; half of its body is underwater. None of this makes sense. How could this have happened under my watch? I can’t help but wonder if I’m hallucinating before facing death’s door. It looks like there’s a silhouette of a whale hovering above the ship’s remains before both it and the ship dive toward the ocean’s depths. The sound of deep low haunting calls reverberates through the waters. My vision darkens, and my heart stops, yet I find a strange sense of peace. In the distance, I imagine a ghostly whale traversing alongside its kin. She’s finally free.