All Hands on Deck

All Hands on Deck

There’s half a man’s leg sticking out of the deck of the ship.  There’s a mist painted in blood that fills the field of view.  The screams of agony frame the mayhem.  Victims cry out for help.  Supply and demand dictated that we pursue her, this whale.

Did we ever have a chance?

A mother and her calf make for a fight to the death.  Few have fared well in a dual to the depths with this princess of the deep

who is now more than angry with our insolence, lack of proper protocol and respect.

The captain is dead.  The first mate just shot himself in the leg and, the ship’s chef is manning the harpoon.  Is that a man, a barrel of rum or a rib cage that just drifted by?  The whale seems to smile with the question of,

“Who is in charge?” and, “Ahoy there!”

                                                                                                                                                                                           

“Anchor’s Away” epitomizes the situation for she tore the anchor right out of the boat’s left side on her first pass.  The look-out in the crow’s nest hangs by a finger’s nail wishing he had remained at port for Christmas. 

Now, at the crack of the main mast do we all gasp.

None of us can believe this.

Sixteen Men on a Dead Man’s Chest is an old salty song sang in jubilation.

Now it may well be read at our funerals or at a church dedication.                                      

A betrothal to a bride whose honeymoon is that of murder.

“There She Blows” echoes around the world and from sea to shining sea.  The whale, this monster of man, thrashes about belligerently.

Abandon ship!  Make it quick!

She understands, you see.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  At the Bottom of the Sea, April 2010