Carach Angren

In the age of electricity and oil,
my tugboat ploughs through waveless liquid soil.
Cruising at thirteen knots on a pitch black sea.
There's a strange object on the radars
in front of me. Still nothing I can see.
Just an open dreary sea...
Several attempts to contact that
what appeared to be the size of a ship.
No response 'till I receive
transmissions of hostile nature.
These voices cursing my goddamn name.
Hell, is this witchcraft or am I insane?
All of a sudden a dark silhouette
ascends through ghostlike mist.
While it comes closer, I recognize
the image of an old deserted ship.