A leather-bound logboek lay open on the captain’s desk, its pages worn by wind, salt, and decades of voyages, each line tracing the heartbeat of the sea and the rhythm of human curiosity. The lantern’s glow flickered against the creaking timbers as the wind whispered across the waves, threading salt into the pages of a leather‑bound book resting on a captain’s desk. Pens scratched, tides turned, and day after day, lines of ink mapped not just coordinates and weather, but the very rhythm of life at sea. This humble vessel — the logboek — was more than a record. It…
