Erid Lor
06-11-2008, 07:41
Churning waves spilt against the large ship embroiled by storm. The ELS Santa Maria moved forward slowly, slothlike, as it battled the icy elements which battered all sides of the ship. Lightning twisted and pivoted across the clouded sky, eerily illuminating the ship and all the sea; a gale tore across the deck, screaming, howling, roaring, a banshee carrying with it torrents of rain which lashed and whipped mercilessly into the steep sides of the large ship, a mix between a bulk carrier and a container ship- containers on top and some raw materials at the bottom.
Nighttime, and as the storm raged on the captain yawned in the bridge. "Hey Albert, how's it going?" said the First Mate, clapping the more senior man on the back youthfully.
Reaching for a cup of steaming coffee, the captain shrugged. "Same as normal. Cursed rain, we're moving slower than normal because of it. It's been three days since the storm started, and I grow weary of nothing but darkness outside. It's almost a reflection of the world, though... melancholy, full of turmoil, sad, dark; waves lash against the bastions of peace and prosperity, of greater happiness and betterment; rain pours down on joy, making it hide; the violence of lightning strikes the righteous and the honest men."
"Cheer up Albert. There's no need to be so depressed."
The captain snorted, shrugged and stirred his coffee slowly, gazing out through a window in the well-furnished bridge with its cushioned chairs, teak floor, computers, wireless Internet modem, expensive pictures of former captains and famous scenes of ships. The First Mate could identify three of them- one was of the epic Battle of Trafalgar, where the British had spectacularly defeated the Spanish and French without losing a single ship of their own; the second he could identify was of the Emma Maersk at port in calm, crystal clear blue waters, with modern machinery and equipment on shore offloading cargo, balanced by nature's beauties- palm trees and fish. He could almost reach out and enter the scene, see the trees wave gently as a breezy wind blew past, not too weak as to lose its cooling power but not too strong as to cause discomfort and cold, and see the fish leap up and dive once more into the briny deep-water harbour.
The third was a sight that would chill to the very bone any seaman of the age- a pirate ship, black flag with white skull and bones flying in defiance of the law and as a mocking gesture to its prey- "We're coming", sailing sideways to the point of view of the painter, firing a full broadside as tiny figures of men on board cackled or reloaded cannons, watched through spyglasses, turned the ship to sail up to its crippled target, a rich merchant ship laden with gold and expensive items from some unknown land. Luckily pirates had been suppressed somewhat by the Eridite government; no Eridite ship had been taken for some time, and for that the man was grateful- he never could imagine being taken over by the cruel, leering pirates who lurked about the world, festering wounds upon the sea who menaced shipping lines like the one the Santa Maria was moving on now, with a cargo of weapons- tanks, assault rifles, other vehicles, and more- and expensive oil, coal and grain. There was no need to worry- the pirates feared the Eridite Navy too much to attack so close to the major port (and with a large naval base too) Eritron, but several days' journey south, and on a major shipping lane no less.
He never dreamt that he would be wrong.
A thunderclap shook the First Mate out of his dreamy reverie, bringing him back to real life in an instant; the captain appeared unaffected as he stirred his coffee again as it colded and took a small sip, setting the mug down again on a coaster.
"Why so depressed, Albert? And don't tell me-"
The older man looked at the First Mate and raised his eyebrows, cutting into the First Mate's sentence. "Because of the storm. I already told you the rest of it."
The First Mate snorted and muttered under his breath as he moved out of the bridge to the galley to get some food, "I was just about to say not to tell me about the storm."
Nighttime, and as the storm raged on the captain yawned in the bridge. "Hey Albert, how's it going?" said the First Mate, clapping the more senior man on the back youthfully.
Reaching for a cup of steaming coffee, the captain shrugged. "Same as normal. Cursed rain, we're moving slower than normal because of it. It's been three days since the storm started, and I grow weary of nothing but darkness outside. It's almost a reflection of the world, though... melancholy, full of turmoil, sad, dark; waves lash against the bastions of peace and prosperity, of greater happiness and betterment; rain pours down on joy, making it hide; the violence of lightning strikes the righteous and the honest men."
"Cheer up Albert. There's no need to be so depressed."
The captain snorted, shrugged and stirred his coffee slowly, gazing out through a window in the well-furnished bridge with its cushioned chairs, teak floor, computers, wireless Internet modem, expensive pictures of former captains and famous scenes of ships. The First Mate could identify three of them- one was of the epic Battle of Trafalgar, where the British had spectacularly defeated the Spanish and French without losing a single ship of their own; the second he could identify was of the Emma Maersk at port in calm, crystal clear blue waters, with modern machinery and equipment on shore offloading cargo, balanced by nature's beauties- palm trees and fish. He could almost reach out and enter the scene, see the trees wave gently as a breezy wind blew past, not too weak as to lose its cooling power but not too strong as to cause discomfort and cold, and see the fish leap up and dive once more into the briny deep-water harbour.
The third was a sight that would chill to the very bone any seaman of the age- a pirate ship, black flag with white skull and bones flying in defiance of the law and as a mocking gesture to its prey- "We're coming", sailing sideways to the point of view of the painter, firing a full broadside as tiny figures of men on board cackled or reloaded cannons, watched through spyglasses, turned the ship to sail up to its crippled target, a rich merchant ship laden with gold and expensive items from some unknown land. Luckily pirates had been suppressed somewhat by the Eridite government; no Eridite ship had been taken for some time, and for that the man was grateful- he never could imagine being taken over by the cruel, leering pirates who lurked about the world, festering wounds upon the sea who menaced shipping lines like the one the Santa Maria was moving on now, with a cargo of weapons- tanks, assault rifles, other vehicles, and more- and expensive oil, coal and grain. There was no need to worry- the pirates feared the Eridite Navy too much to attack so close to the major port (and with a large naval base too) Eritron, but several days' journey south, and on a major shipping lane no less.
He never dreamt that he would be wrong.
A thunderclap shook the First Mate out of his dreamy reverie, bringing him back to real life in an instant; the captain appeared unaffected as he stirred his coffee again as it colded and took a small sip, setting the mug down again on a coaster.
"Why so depressed, Albert? And don't tell me-"
The older man looked at the First Mate and raised his eyebrows, cutting into the First Mate's sentence. "Because of the storm. I already told you the rest of it."
The First Mate snorted and muttered under his breath as he moved out of the bridge to the galley to get some food, "I was just about to say not to tell me about the storm."