Sisyphean Attempts at Self-Improvement

A Stone Only Rolls Downhill

For all the cliches about a captain going down with their ship, I thought it ironic that The Captain was the one other survivor who was on this god-forsaken bit of floating debris with me. All that remained of our frigate was The Captain, me, this floating piece of our shattered main mast, and an oar from one of the rowboats that I had snagged as it floated by.

“What now, Captain?” I ventured to ask as I looked around at the devastation the storm had wrought. And the fact that there was no land in sight for who knew how far.

“I wish I could say it’d be alright,” The Captain said, squinting up at the sun and then pointing toward the horizon in one direction. “But I think the nearest land is at least three leagues thataway.”

I sighed and started paddling our mast fragment-turned-lifeboat in the direction he was pointing. With a particularly un-aquadynamic vessel and only a single oar, it was very slow going. Even with The Captain paddling with his hand on the other side to keep us on course.

“I wish I could tell you it would all be fine,” he said as he scooped water with his hands. “But even if we do make it to land again, the nearest land is a port rife with pirates and other low lives. I’m not sure they’re going to take kindly to a pair of sailors from the King’s Navy rowing up to their docks. Especially an officer in my position.”

The Captain always had a way of looking at the bright side, I had to give him that.

Still, if given the choice between taking my chances with some ruffians in a port, or seeing how long we could survive out here in the open water before we drowned, died of exposure, or got eaten by some creature that decided we were its next meal, I’d take my chances with the ruffians in port. Especially since I wasn’t an officer in The Captain’s position. Maybe I could pass myself off as an unlucky passenger or even captive of the King’s Navy and talk my way into someone’s good graces long enough to get hired aboard another ship that could get me home.

“A stone only rolls downhill,” The Captain muttered ruefully, still lamenting his lack of options.

These things, they’ll be what they will, I thought to myself as I continued to row toward what I hoped would be salvation. And a separation from The Captain who seems to be letting me do most of the rowing while he waxes poetic about our situation.


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Word Count: 452

Written For: "Note: 48-HOUR CHALLENGE : Media Prompt Deadl..."

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