January, 1607: It has to be at least 11:30pm this night of January 9th, and I remain awake. Ever since I discovered my skin caked with red speckles two mornings ago, I realized the awful truth. I have scabies. I sit up in my cold, damp bunk and my mind jumps to my legs, which are pringling immensely. I sit scratching my legs and biting my itching arms for minutes on end, until my fingers ache and I stand up. I put my shoes on, thinking some fresh air will help focus my thoughts on other matters. I have to squint my eyes as I walk towards the stairs that lead to the upper deck of the ship. In the thick darkness, I trip many times, resulting in splinters coating my legs and hands on top of the blisters. When I reach the upper deck, I notice …show more content…
Although sickened by the scene, it is nothing new to me. We are now 74 days into our voyage to America, and over half of our crew members have a disease that will most likely result in death. I hobble through the crowd of people, scratching viciously at my hands and arms as I do so. I find a spot without a congestion of people and sit down. Taking a deep breath, I take off my shoes and begin scratching my feet. In the darkness, I can barely make out the blister covered rashes running from the tips of my toes to my ankles. Tears begin to stream down my sweaty, pimpled face as I scratch my feet with all my strength. I can feel a tingling movement underneath my skin, and I feel as though I can see the mites burrowing into my flesh. I look around in distress and notice the faces of others living this nightmare. Men and women all around me are aching and groaning in pain. Bloody vomit emerges from their jaws as they cripple over in agony. There is a musty, rotting smell in the air, and I look over to locate the fish that have spoiled from the extreme heat of the day. The ship rocks back and forth, and with every wave more and more bodily …show more content…
Every person before me is going to die and I know it. Everyone up here, some just children, won’t even make it another week. I continue down the steps, and after a few minutes I return to my bunk. I crawl underneath my thin sheet and try one last time to shut my eyes. I can tell moring is coming, as the sunlight is just beginning to fill the room. I glance around at the dozing passengers next to me, as a pounding headache emerges in my head. There’s no possible way I’ll be able to sleep now. I pull off my sheet and scratch at my arms, legs, and hands. My eruption of noise wakes several people and I feel my face growing red hot. I want to run, to hide, somewhere, anywhere but here. If only there was a way to escape. If only there was someway I could get off of this ship. I wish with all my power I hadn’t joined the journey 74 days ago. I wish there was someway I could go back and decide to stay home. If only there way some way. Now, I’m stuck here, in the middle of the ocean, with scabies. Now, I’m forced to live out the rest of my miserable life here, on this boat. As the sun rises, I climb out of my bunk and join the others as they prepare for a day of work. For some of them, including me, they are preparing for the most brutal
The author shows the reader the sea just as the sailor does as death, but more than death
... from our world today. Though they are not as prominent now, everyone suffers from some kind of sickness.
First there was the ground that wasn’t as firm as I thought it was; my right sneaker falling victim to the deceptive scattered branches that littered the floor, probably only inches thick, allowing water to creep in and wet my sock. Then there were the dead branches that I tried to use as a bridge to avoid this, which snapped under my overbearing 150 pounds. And of course every branch was connected to the last by a series of intricate spider webs; every one I ducked to get under just happened to have a neighbor right underneath. The list goes on. But the small wound where the palm of my hand met my thumb didn’t seem like it would be a big deal until I was back in the boat. I didn’t realize that it would trigger such intense emotions and drag me so deep into a pit of despair.
This place was terrible. They took our clothes away, forced hundreds of us into tightly packed rooms, literally stacked on top of one another like a can of sardines. I was missing you all so much and needed you at the time for comfort. I could not stand it anymore as we rocked back and forth, weeping and angry. As I was bleeding terribly, I forced myself to unlock my hands from the chain. At that point I didn’t care how much pain I was in, all I wanted to do was escape. When I finally did escape and free the others, this raging power came upon me to takeover the ship. The others and I killed all but two of the Spanish on the ship. It felt good to let out all the anger that was built up inside of me and I felt accomplished and powerful.
Harvey Cheyne is a very rich and arrogant boy that falls off a steamer into the Atlantic Ocean. A fishing boat called the, We’re Here, picks him up out of the ocean and soon he is informed that he can’t go back to his home in America until fishing season ended in about 3 months. During his stay, he becomes nicer, gets to know the parts of the ship, and gets better at fishing. After some months, the We’re Here arrives to their last stop, which is called the fishing town, until they head home. At the fishing town, they fish until all their salt to preserve their fish in are gone and then, they start heading home. During the trip home, he starts to appreciate the ocean and people notices the changes that Harvey undertook, from a haughty boy to a nice and kind boy. There is a happy reunion when his parents meet him and during that both of his parents notice how humble Harvey became and then, they go back home.
...ry little separates these men from imminent death and that what does stand between them exists and acts outside of their realm of influence. It is not their strength, hard work, or perseverance that will challenge nature and allow them to live. If anything, it is the strength of the man-made boat that must hold up against the forces beating against them. Their fate lies in the figurative hands of nature and of men, and everything that they do in the lifeboat will bring them closer to either life or death. But they have no way to tell which decisions will lead them where, so they must rely on the deterministic factors of life to lead them to safety rather than to their demise, but first they must lose their senses of self-importance and come to terms with the fact that their survival is not regarded in anyway by nature and the other forces working in their lives.
In fact, the daily life of human beings is at the mercy of the uncontrollable waves of the sea; while, at the same time, the essential part of reality remains unknown to feeble, helpless humans. The human voyage into life is feeble, vulnerable, and uncontrollable. Since the crew on a dangerous sea without hope are depicted as "the babes of the sea", it can be inferred that we are likely to be ignorant strangers in the universe. In addition to the dangers we face, we also have to overcome the new challenges of the waves in the daily life. These waves are "most wrongfully and barbarously abrupt and tall", requiring "a new leap, and a leap."
...ll child screams to her parents. An explosive argument is occurring between a passenger and an assistant over at the check-in desk. The seconds keep ticking. I bite my cheek some more, and my mouth fills with blood.
There were deafening sounds across each ends of the vessel and intense voices coming from a masculine perspective. I perceived that the mammoth like figures were looting pirates. There were numerous accounts of pirates raiding ships across the Cemetery Ocean. Since I was a child, myths began to emerge about these wild figures and their death penalties. Promptly, I glimpsed around myself to see if I could locate objects for defense.
I gingerly stepped on to the ship, as it wobbled side-to-side; slightly fearful of the soft blue sheet beneath me stretching to the horizon, undulating like the heaving breast of a runner having completed a race. At nineteen years old, some may think it is juvenile to fear the ocean, but not to me. I mean, how could someone look at the rising tides; getting closer each time, as if impending doom, and not get even the slightest chills of fear? And living above those rising tides for seven whole days? My stomach leaped forward. I heard my friends stepping on behind me: laughing and bickering playfully, and could slowly feel the fear begin to dissipate as excitement for the upcoming voyage took over my senses. It only grew as I glanced around. The inside of the cruise ship strangely but incredibly resembled a mixture of the buzzing and stimulating surroundings of Las Vegas, and the posh and classy atmosphere of Beverly Hills; which happened to be two of my favorite places; living in the States as we did. There were large branded stores, casinos, restaurants with worldwide cuisines, a games arcade; where I just knew the guys would
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
I was left stranded in the midst of the midnight blue section of the ocean with only a life jacket and no reliable vision. My face burned from sitting under the scorching sun and partly of my embarrassment, so I ducked underneath the brackish waters. I peeked underneath the surface and my stomach clenched. Darkness everywhere. Engulfing coldness.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
I could hear the car engines roaring to life, horns honk above me. Tiny footsteps echo throughout the tunnel as I leant up against a brick wall. The tunnel seemed to carry on forever like there was no ending. Yellow dimmed lights lead through the path of the tunnel. I tried to control my breathing which got heavier by the second.
On the other hand, I feared the worst which was coming home empty handed. On a dark, gloomy morning I stepped aboard my first fishing charter boat. At 2am the sky was black with endless stars in sight. A light breeze rolled over the water, causing small ripples against the boat.