The Wreck Of The President

Page 4

Even as the first of them climbed up onto the forecastle, and the men peered down over the side wondering how they were going to loose the anchors without being swept away, a new sound rose up. It was the sound they had all been dreading, it could just be made out above the roar of the storm. It was the sound of breakers!

Waves breaking against the shore – right in front of them.

The men waved frantically to those back on the quarterdeck, but they had already heard the sound for themselves. In a frenzy of shouting, running and pulling on ropes the mizzen sail was swung round. In a last desperate effort the men at the whipstaff hauled the rudder over. The ship turned.

It was all too late, of course it was. It didn’t matter which way the ship was pointing, the sea would still carry it onto the shore – onto the rocks.

Then came the last moment, a second or two of silence. The storm still roared but no one on deck heard it. The last perfect moment in the life of their ship. Every man held his breath, and so did the Universe around him. How long can a single moment last? How many undisturbed thoughts can be crammed into it, before getting on with the business of ruin and death?

They had come so far…….

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