Blue Surge

Screaming winds, frozen bows, and a restless crew made for all the excitement a Captain could endure and yet our future was way beyond what we knew we were able to suffer. I had seen many a wild sea and fought through them all with a mindful respect and growing admiration for all those who ventured the waters of this wonderful world. All the stories of ships packed with war time storage and vexed souls planning a path for glory.

The hearts of the old mariners filled with pride, as seaman of all sort and origin endured the troubled currents of the open sea. To hear it told from young and old, times of yearning quenched in the depths of the lockers below. I had my stress, no doubt, but my passions would win out and hopefully steady the hands aboard the Mercy. We had been ashore weeks ago in some native isle, where I’d taken me only treasure, a vintage steamer trunk that had washed up on the south side of this troubled shore.

Inside the antique steamer trunk was a hundred stories, now capsulized in pictures and fancy trinkets of sort. The maid that had her was for sure a catch to be had, or so it seemed to me. A shape good for a man and the attention in all her detailed writings. She, like the most of us had longed for love, and ended in loss. Well, I wouldn’t let her dream die if I could. Ya see, as salty a dog as I was, me heart was deep and secretly tender for romance, that I myself had lost.

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