The Horse The Boat

Posted: July 18, 2013 in Uncategorized

On the green waves and the boxes halting restless, pulling out with tide and magnetics, the navy was impatient. The Admiral in suit of white, the metals glistening off of his boxy rectangle of a chest, framing the angled slope and quiet strength of his jaw cleared his throat. His officers sat around the table, observing the charts and the latitudinal coordinates in silence, waiting for an order, waiting for an indication how to feel. There was only the creak of boards, the sloshing of salt water, the pulling sigh of ropes and the small jingle of the food bell, forcing each man to blink tersely tensely defensively against the waning wills of the other men in the room. The sun lazily sloped down through a crack in the clouds, reflecting off spyglasses and dull brass. It was August. The wind was coming from the northwest. The lunch in the galley was stew and rhubarb. Nobody died that day out on the oceans.

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