Ship Wreck

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Fear has taken a hold of every man aboard this ship, as it should; our luck is as far gone as the winds that led us off course. For nights and days gusts beyond measure have forced us south, yet our vessel beauty, Le Serpent, stays afloat. The souls aboard her, lay at the mercy of this ruthless sea. Chaotic weather has turned the crew from noble seamen searching for glory and riches, to whimpering children. To stay sane I keep the holy trinity close to my heart and the lady on my mind. Desperation comes and goes from the men’s eyes, while the black, blistering clouds fasten above us, as endless as the ocean itself. The sea rocks our wood hull back and forth but has yet to flip her. The rocking forces our bodies to cling to any sturdy or available hinge, nook or rope, anything a man can grasp with a sea soaked hand. The impacts make every step a danger. We all have taken on a ghoulish complexion; the absence of sunlight led the weak souls aboard to fight sleep until sick. Some of us pray for the sun to rise but thunder constantly deafens our cries as it crackles above the mast. We have been out to sea for fifty-five days and we have been in this forsaken storm for the last seventeen. Some nights ago while most of the crew was resetting a sail, broken by the winds, some fat swine got into the food storage. The fool, drunk off his ass, passed out on the wheat supply where he puked and laid piss over one of the last three barrels of wheat. If there were no order the man would have been sent to Davy Jones' Locker. Despite the crew's desire for blood, the captain had a firm grip on the mates. He gave the Italian responsible the shitty job of cleaning the head. The captain then calmed nerves as he reassured... ... middle of paper ... ...ess the beauty of such unique ceremony.” As he told the very story with deep tones, he would raise his hand clutching a green blade. He said the oldest native gave it to him and that in the exchange the blade gave off light. In return the captain gave his most personal affect, his fathers pocket watch. His time with the natives he said was the best time of his life. The captain believed that the Indians were untainted beings; he said he could feel a connection between the people and believed that their power was routed by a natural energy, native to the land. But the Captain's stories were hard to take in full, the man had a thirst and he drank regularly. No matter how much he drank the captain only needed three hours of sleep to right him. He would wake up perkier than a horny pig and scold us till we joined him. With the captain gone. God to save us…

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