There was a time, the thought passed through my head, when I did not care.
The sea was beautiful, soft, and calm, the sun warm and bright. The ship was on fire; the heat bit my back.
It was time to jump. The lapping waves called. But I loved my ship, my dying ship. I loved her and loved what she made me, a captain.
Captain no more, if I jumped or burned. Oh! I might captain other ships, but none like her.
I looked out, wondering why the day on which all my dreams died should be so beautiful.
Tale Told 