Every ship that has left this port suddenly caught fire. Sails burn up like tissue paper until only soot and smoke hung in the air above the hull. A controlled blaze, if ever there was one. The stink of rotten rations billowed from below deck. The men caught sick and heaved into the choppy sea. Mutiny! Mutiny! You cannot even feed us! Mutiny!
How many days has it been since the city skyline disappeared from sight? The captain’s log is filling up quickly with comments on the morale of the crew. In his head, they’re all standing beside him, but in their eyes they are longing to behead him. Some men took to fishing with burnt shards of wood and torn fabric from their clothing. No fish seemed to bite, and at night the cold ocean air blew through their rags, keeping them chilled and sleepless. Mutiny! Mutiny! You cannot keep us from the cold! Mutiny!
In September they thought they’d seen land, but was just an aberration. In the corners of their living quarters, some of the crew plotted to throw their captain overboard and leave him to sink. Sabotage was mentioned in passing, but the trip was still young and perhaps this was just a bad stretch of days. They could surely not suffer much longer. Any day now the sun would filter through the clouds and the darkness shrouding the ship would lift. Either that, or suicide at sea. Mutiny! Mutiny! You cannot keep us sane! Mutiny!
In January the captain broke his compass. He was checking the cordage of the ship because it might have become snagged, but he slipped on the slickened deck and broke the face of the instrument. He dared not tell the crew, some of them were beginning to look at him like vultures. Their eyes moved in circles. Mutiny! Mutiny! You cannot even direct us! Mutiny!
In May he admitted he had no idea where they were, or in which direction they were traveling. He didn’t want to address the questions, but some men had fallen ill; a couple of men died, too. He now kept a revolver under his pillow. When and if he slept, he had nightmares of the world towards which he was sailing. He hallucinated often about women. Mutiny! Mutiny! You cannot live to see home! Mutiny!
