The wind was at our backs, the sky was clear, and the oceanic blue stretched infinitely beyond our sights. Mary and I had the pleasure of the world at our fingertips, and we were apt to enjoy all that could be enjoyed.
Our vessel pressed on, the sails taut and bold, pushing us down further into the blue. A white bird above us cawed and circled around. Mary remarked to me that she wondered if perhaps it aimed to land aboard our ship, but lacked either the courage or the skill to do so.
"Why land when you can fly?" I replied.
At Mary’s request, I ventured down into the cabin to make us some drinks. The stairs were slippery, but I managed to make my way down with no error.
As I opened the door, a terrible sound cascaded through my brain.
"Breach, breach!" I yelled to Mary. The ship was sinking, and I knew I had to act fast. Even a small hole could sink the greatest of ships, and our ship was not great.
I grabbed a bucket and began to clear some of the water, hoping to find the breach. Mary was still unaccounted for. Either she had failed to hear me or she was busy above deck. After a few buckets of water, I realized the futility of what I was doing and dived under to try to find the leak. I swam further into the cabin, now completely submerged, my mind and eyes racing to find the hole. I needed air. I needed air. The sound of the water gushing in had ceased. The cabin was full. I gasped.
I could hear a faint sound from the deck above: “Can you put those little ice cubes in my drink, Stephen? I like them a lot more than the big ones.”