Devoveo Ad Mare
The Captain pulled the wool coat close about his throat and stared hard to port.
The sea was roaring, she was, angrier than any harpy, any Charybdis. The Captain scowled.
Although young for a Captain, he had already adapted the look of a weathered seaman, used to barking out orders and having few friends on deck.
The Captain saw the waves swallow the tiny boat in the distance. He saw the arms and legs of men waving in desperation, flags hung upside down in distress. But his vessel could not bear the storm. He could not tack in this wind; it would be too much for he and the skipper to handle alone. The skipper was worthless, at this moment. Skipper was a huddled mass of quivery flesh, weeping in the galley, crying against the cold saltwater pouring in through the deck.
The Captain remained alone on the bridge, scowling at the tiny boat as it was flipped over and deposited the men to the high, gray waves and white capped vices. The men were fifteen in number, just enough to man a small vessel like the Captain's "Muse", just enough to fit into the one lifeboat the Muse carried.
The Captain had tied the rudder to stay the course through the storm, but put anchor down. It was not much help, as the seas were rough and hungry for life. The Muse rocked to and fro with each fervored hurtle from the water. The lines, battered and beginning to fray, were just holding in place. The boom was shuddering.
The Captain slid his way to the cabin, and practically swam down the stairs as the water rushed in. He could see the skipper in the galley, and made his way to him. As expected, Skipper had weakly lashed himself to the mast stem for fear of being washed out of the cabin--a foolish thing to do, indeed, for it the Muse went under, the Skipper would have no hope of escape.
"What's this, then, Skipper? Stop being a yellow-belly and get on deck with me!" Captain barked through the wet wool jacket.
"Captain, please! Untie me!" Skipper begged.
"You fool!" barked Captain. "You got yourself into this mess of rope, you blimey dunce! Now I have to cut you out!" And the Captain took his blade and cut Skipper loose.
Captain turned back toward the deck, saying, "Now, Skipper! To the bridge! Alas, our mates have squandered themselves by throwing themselves to sea too early! But I declare, the Muse will outlast this storm, and any like it! No mutiny will bring this ship to rest at a watery death! Come, Skipper, advance!"
And then, the Captain felt a hard shock to his head, and his eyes saw only water as he sank to the galley floor.
****
When Captain regained consciousness, he found himself lashed to the mast on deck, and a rag stuffed into his mouth. Skipper stood at the bridge, hands grasping the rail, posture stiff. Captain made a strangled noise, and Skipper turned. Skipper came to Captain with a scowl.
"The sea is quieter, now, Captain, as you see. Perhaps your sacrifice made her so?" Skipper asked scornfully, while removing the gag from Captain's mouth.
"What is the meaning of this? Unhand me at once, you bastard!" The words came out of Captain's mouth in froth.
"Don't attempt to be incredulous, Captain!" screamed Skipper. "Don't attempt to befuddle me with idiot wiles! Damn well, you know you put those men on that little, worthless vessel and sent them to sea! You put them there at gunpoint! You sailed them into the storm in a fit of madness! Your eyes were black as hell, they were, and your voice was cruel! Those men have perished because of you, you demon! And I? I, you lashed in the galley, screaming of mutiny and the storm! I, your best friend, your comrade in all things, your only confidante! You have betrayed me in your madness, and have killed fifteen men by sending them over!"
The Captain, lashed as he was, could do naught but slowly see the scenes of ten hours past play in front of him. The pale faces of the boys as he marched them to the boat, the tears of the youngest mate, only thirteen years old. He saw himself as he had been, blackened with rage and madness, shrieking of the sea's request for blood, sermonizing to the sentenced crew of sacrifice. The sea brewed quicker as the lifeboat had been hastily set afloat, and the Skipper had cowered in fear. These things, the Captain saw as he looked at the Skipper, his closest mate, his dearest friend.
"My God...I am mad..." Captain whispered.
"Mad? You are cursed, you horrid damp soul! You are a plague to the sea! Too many years, you've sat adrift in this ocean, on the Muse, and forgotten what life is! Too many years, you've broken yourselves against storms such as this! Captain, these years have stolen your sanity!"
The winds broke hard at that moment, and the ship rocked hard to starboard. Lashed as he was, Captain saw Skipper slip against the movement, and grasp a rail, only to have his hand loosed by another great wake of waves. Captain saw Skipper rolled down deck, and pushed over board. But Captain could not assist Skipper, tied as he was. He screamed into the wind, only to have it take his voice away from Skipper. Skipper was a spot in the sea, now, growing weaker by the moment, until his flailing arms quieted, and his mouth stopped gaping open like a fish caught on a line. And then, Captain could see Skipper no more.
Now, the sea was rough and black, and the night had fallen in. The temperature was desperately cold, and Captain could no longer feel his extremities through his wool coat. Captain groaned to the sea and sky for mercy, but the sky would not listen, and the sea continued to brew. The Muse took on more water, with no one to man her, and the Captain felt the list to port. Soon, the boat was almost on its side, taking in too much, and the Captain hung parallel to the sea. And as he stared into the water, lashed to the mast, he saw the vixens of the sea calling to him, holding up their pale arms amongst their deadened green hair. Here, the sirens of the sea were calling him once again, their lithe limbs curling into waves. And as the vixens came to the Captain in a great leap of water, and broke the mast with their fury, and lashed themselves about the Captain, he grew resilient and scowled at them.
"You whores of the sea! Take me, and suck my bones dry!"
As he screamed, the sky opened up its greatest fury, and pelted the ocean with rain, while the sea swallowed the Captain into a black tunnel of wet rage, followed by the wreckage of the Muse, and digested them into the darkest cave far below the surface.
The Captain came to rest amongst a bed of rocks, and suffocated amongst the mossy tresses of sea vixens, the lank swirls of despair, and closed his eyes, and was crazed no more.
The sea was roaring, she was, angrier than any harpy, any Charybdis. The Captain scowled.
Although young for a Captain, he had already adapted the look of a weathered seaman, used to barking out orders and having few friends on deck.
The Captain saw the waves swallow the tiny boat in the distance. He saw the arms and legs of men waving in desperation, flags hung upside down in distress. But his vessel could not bear the storm. He could not tack in this wind; it would be too much for he and the skipper to handle alone. The skipper was worthless, at this moment. Skipper was a huddled mass of quivery flesh, weeping in the galley, crying against the cold saltwater pouring in through the deck.
The Captain remained alone on the bridge, scowling at the tiny boat as it was flipped over and deposited the men to the high, gray waves and white capped vices. The men were fifteen in number, just enough to man a small vessel like the Captain's "Muse", just enough to fit into the one lifeboat the Muse carried.
The Captain had tied the rudder to stay the course through the storm, but put anchor down. It was not much help, as the seas were rough and hungry for life. The Muse rocked to and fro with each fervored hurtle from the water. The lines, battered and beginning to fray, were just holding in place. The boom was shuddering.
The Captain slid his way to the cabin, and practically swam down the stairs as the water rushed in. He could see the skipper in the galley, and made his way to him. As expected, Skipper had weakly lashed himself to the mast stem for fear of being washed out of the cabin--a foolish thing to do, indeed, for it the Muse went under, the Skipper would have no hope of escape.
"What's this, then, Skipper? Stop being a yellow-belly and get on deck with me!" Captain barked through the wet wool jacket.
"Captain, please! Untie me!" Skipper begged.
"You fool!" barked Captain. "You got yourself into this mess of rope, you blimey dunce! Now I have to cut you out!" And the Captain took his blade and cut Skipper loose.
Captain turned back toward the deck, saying, "Now, Skipper! To the bridge! Alas, our mates have squandered themselves by throwing themselves to sea too early! But I declare, the Muse will outlast this storm, and any like it! No mutiny will bring this ship to rest at a watery death! Come, Skipper, advance!"
And then, the Captain felt a hard shock to his head, and his eyes saw only water as he sank to the galley floor.
****
When Captain regained consciousness, he found himself lashed to the mast on deck, and a rag stuffed into his mouth. Skipper stood at the bridge, hands grasping the rail, posture stiff. Captain made a strangled noise, and Skipper turned. Skipper came to Captain with a scowl.
"The sea is quieter, now, Captain, as you see. Perhaps your sacrifice made her so?" Skipper asked scornfully, while removing the gag from Captain's mouth.
"What is the meaning of this? Unhand me at once, you bastard!" The words came out of Captain's mouth in froth.
"Don't attempt to be incredulous, Captain!" screamed Skipper. "Don't attempt to befuddle me with idiot wiles! Damn well, you know you put those men on that little, worthless vessel and sent them to sea! You put them there at gunpoint! You sailed them into the storm in a fit of madness! Your eyes were black as hell, they were, and your voice was cruel! Those men have perished because of you, you demon! And I? I, you lashed in the galley, screaming of mutiny and the storm! I, your best friend, your comrade in all things, your only confidante! You have betrayed me in your madness, and have killed fifteen men by sending them over!"
The Captain, lashed as he was, could do naught but slowly see the scenes of ten hours past play in front of him. The pale faces of the boys as he marched them to the boat, the tears of the youngest mate, only thirteen years old. He saw himself as he had been, blackened with rage and madness, shrieking of the sea's request for blood, sermonizing to the sentenced crew of sacrifice. The sea brewed quicker as the lifeboat had been hastily set afloat, and the Skipper had cowered in fear. These things, the Captain saw as he looked at the Skipper, his closest mate, his dearest friend.
"My God...I am mad..." Captain whispered.
"Mad? You are cursed, you horrid damp soul! You are a plague to the sea! Too many years, you've sat adrift in this ocean, on the Muse, and forgotten what life is! Too many years, you've broken yourselves against storms such as this! Captain, these years have stolen your sanity!"
The winds broke hard at that moment, and the ship rocked hard to starboard. Lashed as he was, Captain saw Skipper slip against the movement, and grasp a rail, only to have his hand loosed by another great wake of waves. Captain saw Skipper rolled down deck, and pushed over board. But Captain could not assist Skipper, tied as he was. He screamed into the wind, only to have it take his voice away from Skipper. Skipper was a spot in the sea, now, growing weaker by the moment, until his flailing arms quieted, and his mouth stopped gaping open like a fish caught on a line. And then, Captain could see Skipper no more.
Now, the sea was rough and black, and the night had fallen in. The temperature was desperately cold, and Captain could no longer feel his extremities through his wool coat. Captain groaned to the sea and sky for mercy, but the sky would not listen, and the sea continued to brew. The Muse took on more water, with no one to man her, and the Captain felt the list to port. Soon, the boat was almost on its side, taking in too much, and the Captain hung parallel to the sea. And as he stared into the water, lashed to the mast, he saw the vixens of the sea calling to him, holding up their pale arms amongst their deadened green hair. Here, the sirens of the sea were calling him once again, their lithe limbs curling into waves. And as the vixens came to the Captain in a great leap of water, and broke the mast with their fury, and lashed themselves about the Captain, he grew resilient and scowled at them.
"You whores of the sea! Take me, and suck my bones dry!"
As he screamed, the sky opened up its greatest fury, and pelted the ocean with rain, while the sea swallowed the Captain into a black tunnel of wet rage, followed by the wreckage of the Muse, and digested them into the darkest cave far below the surface.
The Captain came to rest amongst a bed of rocks, and suffocated amongst the mossy tresses of sea vixens, the lank swirls of despair, and closed his eyes, and was crazed no more.
posted by FRITZ at 8:32 AM
12 Comments:
Awesome, Frtiz. I hope you keep paticipating in FFF, or writing whenever the hell you feel like it for that matter.
Hey, thanks, Bobby!
however, I would love to see some of your saliciousness advertised in some fiction, as well.
With that scathing attitude, I think you could write a real gem.
Funny story! Confusing at first, but then the end helps stuff make sense. Crazy people always die. Or get new boats, new crews, and kill again, but mostly they always die.
Hmm. Maybe I should make a story page.
Or maybe not, I'd always get shown up by other peoples' stories, I don't know what half these words mean and don't like thesaurusesis... saliciousness.
I shall close my eyes and be crazed no more.
Awesome work, mate.
Look forward to reading more FFF.
very nice, Fritz
Insanity always makes for interesting reading. I loved "The Muse". Very well written, as always.
Hey, thanks all!
You know what I can't seem to get? Dialogue. I don't like writing dialogue. I always read back over it and go..."That sounds really dumb."
Insanity is probably the laziest way out of a story. But, as Crush says, crazy people always die in the end. I think. Huh?
Oh my!
A storm of the sea, and a storm of the mind.
Poor Captain.
Fritz, I linked to this site (see my sidebar!).
Also--I've meant to tell you: I printed Symphony for Life and have read it numerous times. It is a masterpiece, and you ought to seek publication.
Brava, my dear. Brava!
ps. Watch out for the Scylla
wow! thanks for reading that one over and over! You are really quite kind, Spinning Girl.
With a little help from a Simian and the "Writer's Market 2004", I thought that was the story I would first try to publish.
It is so wonderful to have such a great 'test' audience amongst blogger friends. And I am so complimented to have folks such as yourself comment about my stories.
Thank you, dear, for linking my Stories.
wow!
magnificent effort...makes my 5 minute effort pale indeed
:o)
Good work, Fritz. Clever twist.
Wow, the prophet JJ speaks. Ah, I am one with the force...
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