There's a story that's been told amongst sailors for nearly a hundred years, in pubs

around the world, and each time I hear it, it chills me to the bone.

The story goes that in 1947, a U.S. ship named the Silver Star was out by the Solomon Islands,

just off the coast of northwest Australia,

when all of a sudden, their electric telegraph started going crazy. Someone was trying to contact them.

But as the operator translated the Morse code coming in, he went pale.

SOS from Uray Madonna. We float. All officers All officers including the captain dead in chart room and on the bridge, probably whole of crew dead.

The operator desperately tried asking the ship for its location, but all communication had gone silent.

As quickly as the message had come in, the ship was lost until one final message burst through.

I die.

And then everything went quiet.

For the next three days, the ship searched the water for the distressed Uraing Madan,

but nothing was ever found, not a shred of debris.

There was no other attempts

at communication, and the crew started wondering if they had dreamed the whole thing.

But then, one morning, a heavy fog rolled in seemingly out of nowhere, the kind where it's

hard to see your own hand in front of your face. Through the dense fog, one of the crew members spotted an eerily silent ship bobbing gently on the ocean.

Sprawled across the side read two words that froze the sailors in place.

U-Rang Madan.

They called out asking if the crew inside needed any help, but no one ever responded.

Strange, since the ship seemed to be in perfect condition, no signs of damage. So the crew did

something they would come to regret for the rest of their lives. They boarded the ship.

...