There Are Snaids!

How they came aboard is not know. Three days out of a tropical port, the larders seemed to go bare, bags of oats ripped open, meat ripped from ice chests and a thief was suspected. Five days out and the poultry in the mizzen post was gone. And, then the goats. Something was devouring our stock. But, when cook's dog disappeared, it was clear. Snaids were aboard. Voracious. Implacable. Vile. And, it was going to get much worse. Soon, we would wake in the night with small bites, bloody from sharp teeth and smeared with grease. Wounds that soon festered and smelled. Then, a midshipmen, favored for his ruddy complexion and eager smile, went missing. A search turned up nothing. And, finally, we knew what lay ahead for us all. In the end, we few survivors set our ship ablaze, shed our clothing and threw ourselves into the sea, the only escape.