| Much Speed by Bobby Whitworth |
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| Atop the crow's nest, my eyes catch sight of another vessel on the sea at first light. Battered and beaten, my hull creaks, weak from battle, my ship's boards leak. I call out to her, with voice and bell, almost tipping to a large ocean swell. I slide down the mast to approach the wheel, realease it with one hand, the other hold's the keel. Starboard I bend him, to follow my quarry. He fights back hard, so long, so weary. I put back the rope to hold my ship fast and rush to release the sails, to fill the mast with as much speed as I need to catch the side of another vessel I see on the sea at first light. Gaining up on her, I see her crew standing. At first she hails, then quickly she panics. To her wheel to change course, to turn from me she releases the sails, to quickly flee. I call out to her with voice and bell, frantically but her smaller vessel will out race me. What made her run? The same flag we fly. But flee she does indeed, my heart wonders why. At next light she slows, I catch to her side but that look returns, she runs to hide. I have enough provisions to lat me one year, this pursuit could deplete them much sooner, I fear. Regardless I move on with the speed I need to catch the side of another vessel I see on the sea at first light. |
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