There's a cylinder in the basement of that church and it has been glowing since 1348. Every priest who inherits it is handed a key, a ledger, and one instruction. Do not open it.
Nobody writes down what's in it. That's the tradition. You get the key, you get the room, you get the terrible green light coming up through the floorboards on quiet nights, and you get to be the one who didn't open it. Then you die and the next one gets it.
The captain out in the fog knows exactly what's in there. He put it there. He has been beating up the coast for two hundred years to collect, and three people at the rail with one cross between them are what stands in the way.
Hold the line, father. It's a very old jar.
