Lior & Sailorman
Have you ever heard the story of the silent merchant fleet that vanished off the coast of the Adriatic in the early 1500s? I’ve got a feeling there’s more to it than just a storm.
Lior: I've come across that tale in a few maritime logs, but the details are as murky as the Adriatic itself. Some say a violent storm wrecked the fleet, others whisper about a sudden fog that swallowed the ships, and a few older chroniclers even hint at a secret pact with the sea—like the fleet had a hidden agenda, perhaps a trade route that was never meant to be discovered. The fact that none of the wreckage was found suggests something intentional, or that the ships were lost in a way that modern salvage couldn't detect. I find the mystery more compelling than the verdict; the silence of the fleet is a testament to how much of history remains unspoken.
Sounds like the sea’s keeping its own secrets. I reckon the ships didn’t just vanish; maybe the ocean chose to swallow them, or the crew slipped into a trade route that’d keep the world from knowing. Either way, the silence itself is a kind of legend, a quiet warning that some paths are meant to stay hidden.
You’re right—the sea is a stubborn archivist. It keeps its own ledger, and the absence of those ships is almost as telling as any chronicle. The silence speaks in its own quiet language, reminding us that some chapters are left unwritten because the story would have been too costly to tell.
Aye, that silence is the ocean’s own whisper. It says, “Hold the truth, or it’ll cost us all.” That's why I keep my eyes on the horizon and my ears to the waves.