The captain stoically peered into the opaque mass, it held a tight grip on every inch of his vessel. The ice on the water blended with the fog and snow, framed the wooden ship amidst the white surroundings. The wind faintly lashed it’s arctic tendrils on the captain’s face and beard, howling taunts at him from every direction. It told him that he was to not going anywhere.

The captain shuddered as his mind wandered away from the abominable surroundings and thought about Molly. Her soft peachy skin, her warm face against his. He would never see his wife again. If the ship did not give up and sink, he and his men would surely be eaten by the frost.

His men waited on the deck for so much as a glance from their captain, but none was made. Many of the men had given up, a year stuck in the white cloud had made them mutinous. They had been torn from their futures to live a life of small abstract projects. Only working to keep their boat afloat so they could live another day. The frigid, black water lapped under the boat, rocking it into the ice which cackled with a hollow echo.

It was then the captain saw something directly ahead, faintly silhouetted. Something was different, something was through the fog. It was an object both familiar yet unrecognizable. A strong wind blew trying to hide it. The captain raised his arm and used it to shield the wind and snow from his face, he squinted and leaned forward.

Suddenly, his eyes opened wide and with swift movement he flew from where he stood to the bow of the ship. Some of the men were startled as the captain’s snowy figure came their way, others instinctively turned to see what the captain had seen. He shouted to the men through a wide grin, “Leveer! Onward! It’s the sun!”. Those who had been sitting, hiding from the icy winds under bulwark, were now on their feet. His commanding voice was thawing. The crew frantically tried to grab the lines to set the sail. But the ice was not so easily fooled. The thick ropes were stuck, the sail frozen solid.

The bow of the ship creaked as the men pulled hard on the main lines together. Nothing happened but their breath misting in front of them. The men trembled as a phantom wind whipped them. It would not let go. They tried again, harder this time. The stiff sails broke free and began to flail about wildly, unable to tame. The captain broke command and bolted to his men. He wrapped his broad hands over the line and some of his crews frostbitten hands, then shouted, “TOGETHER!”. The men of the ship became one, the rope guided taught as if manned by a giant. Ice shattered from the sails and rained on their heads.

The fog screamed in pain as the sails scooped the wind, moving the boat forward towards the sun. As the ship picked up speed, it began to break the surrounding ice without trouble. The fog’s cold, white fingers finally lost their grip, and the ship was free. The boat was showered in the sun’s warm rays. Color began to return to the wood of the ship as well as the cheeks of the men on it. The captain wiped his brow with a wet sleeve, bent over and picked up his hat. Placing it atop his head as he stood as a captain should. At that very moment, he had no need to give orders.

All the tired, weary, but happy men on the ship laughed for the first time since they entered the fog. They all knew their future lied on the horizon, always following the sun. They knew to never look back. The captain stood alone smiling, his mind began to wander once more.

J.S.