We left harbour with glee. The sun was shining, we had plotted a safe course. We’d identified the currents, the reefs, the best places to fish and how we’d catch those fish. The air was still however, and we made little headway at first. But it was alright, because we spent our time sunning ourselves, dreaming of our catch, devising ever better ways of catching fish, and improving our knowledge of the currents and reefs we were slowly wending our way through.
Finally, a strong wind kicked up and slammed us out to sea, taking us to our desired spot with such velocity we all needed a rest once we got there. But when we got there, we found out that we’d been duped. We were looking for mackeral, had made nets and lines and buoys and failure scenarios. But what we found when we got there were swordfish. And they sliced through our nets and wrecked our lines and sank our buoys and we very nearly sank. But we pulled it together and we caught our fish, as arduous as it was. And we turned for home.
But up came a storm from nowhere, and it blew hard, and blew us off course. And here we ride, tossed about in stormy seas that we can no longer control, where every new cret that we think is bringing us closer home in fact reveals just more, nastier storm clouds that we will have to fight through to finish our voyage. And now the very ship itself is breaking, being torn apart by the demands placed upon it by the weather we’re sailing in.
We’ve certainly lost our shirts, the winds whipping them off our backs, lashing us constantly with heavy rain. Time, once our friend as we sunned ourselves and dreamed of fish is now our enemy, as we must reach port as quickly as possible, to sell what little of our fish remains so that we will be able to fish again one day. But unless this storm abates, I’m afraid we’ll have to abandon ship. Hopefully we’ll wash up on shore and be able to start anew, in another ship, another day. But this voyage is just one giant disaster.