Nor did they notice during all of their not seeing and not hearing that the land had come near, and never would they be able to explain how they’d apparently sailed the great bloody boat directly up the beach upon the last heaving swell of the storm, nor how the ship, stripped of mast, leaking ballast, and dripping storm wrack, came to rest on its side as gently as at a dock in a calm lagoon.When Jack, the first mate (who had assumed the position of command in the absence of the captain), led the crew from the ship – an easy jump onto wet sand on a beach now illuminated by silvery moonlight – they discovered one last miraculous whim of the storm god: not a single bottle of wine carried in the hold of the ship had broken. Ever after, Jack was their leader.
No comments:
Post a Comment