I woke up, surrounded by most of the crew from my little tugboat. I scrunched my face in pain as I sat up, with the help from Peter. I looked at them," What?"

"That's what we want to know," Jerry stated as he stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

I looked over at Peter, clearly confused," What's he talking about?"

"You passed out," he replied.

"I...what?" I couldn't remember what happened.

Peter explained," You were looking at that painting," he pointed to the painting behind him," then when I called out to you, you fell to the floor, unconscious."

It all came back to me. I knew that it was crazy, but I felt like maybe the dreams that I was having were real. What if there was some correlation between what my sister went through, the dreams, and that blasted painting? I suddenly felt like I wouldn't be able to trust anyone, until we got off the ship.

I tried to stand, when Ryan placed a hand on my shoulder," I wouldn't get up just yet," I felt a burning sensation as Ryan touched me, causing me to squirm from his touch," You have a really big gash on your head."

My right hand flew to my head instinctively, and felt the sting of an open cut. I looked down at my fingers when I removed them from my head, and sure enough, they were slightly red with my drying blood.

Suddenly, a thought came to me," How long have I been out?"

"Only a minute, maybe two," Jerry replied," Why?"

"Felt like longer, I guess," I said, not sure how to answer his question, without having to discuss my dream conversations with a dead man.

As I sat there on the dirty floor of the Baychimo, I could hear faint footsteps running towards us. All of us looked up to see Troy practically falling into the room. He looked pasty white, as though he had just seen a ghost. He was struggling to get any words out.

Jerry asked with sincere concern," What is it, Troy?"

Ryan must have thought that Troy was at it again, with another joke, as he asked him," What's wrong, Lassie? Timmy fall into the well again?"

Jerry, Peter and I looked at Ryan, who was smiling at Troy, awaiting the punch line to his joke.

Troy still couldn't speak, so I struggled to get up. Jerry and Peter eventually helped me to my feet, and I suggested," I think we better go see what has him speechless, as this never happens."

I threw my right arm over Peter's shoulders as we followed Troy back through the decks.

When he stopped at the edge of the ship, he pointed down over the side.

We approached the side of the ship, and I removed my arm from Peter's shoulders and supported myself against the railing of this vessel. I peered over the side, and immediately saw why Troy looked so sick.

Our little tugboat was missing.