Sisters by a frost-covered tree.
The fog rolls in; a dreary, dark mist.
Distant objects fade, soon to be missed.
When from this life, we wander away,
Our memory’s left behind that day.
Who will remember our own sacrifice?
What stories will be told of our life?
Honor, glory, faith, and good things?
Or evil, ugly, and awful tidings?
Will your life pass away, into the mist?
Or be like a fog light nobody can miss?
I know not what you would choose yourself;
But I know, myself, I’d want to help.
Living a life that wants naught, nor glory,
But directs ever heart towards Christ’s story.
To be a light that cuts through the fog;
Even in death, a lighthouse to lost.
So who will remember you on your day,
When, from this life, you fade away?
The fog rolls in; a dreary, dark mist.
When this days ends, will it be missed?
Captain Milo Lupholt Log:
June 29th, 2013
The crew boarded me vessel, the Nautilus II, no more than an hour after dinner. They were a bunch o’ the silliest looking greenhorns I ever laid eyes up! Was hard put to it, tryin’ to keep a straight face as I went over the rules of me ship. Only have myself and five other real crew-members worth mentioning, the others’ll be shark-bait before the mornin’s half done.
We shoved off after the preliminary talking to. It was looking to be a foggy, dangerous night. Could hardly see but a few feet with all the fog that’d set in that mornin’. A few clicks out, we were out o’ the fog and into a bright, sunlit evening. Took us a right long time to reach our destination, the dangerous waters near the ancient volcano, Mount Augustine. Had a young greenhorn sitting right in front of me captain’s window, had to tell ‘im to move. He sat up at the bow of the boat for close to an hour, mostly alone, enjoying the ocean it seemed. The sun was out, the waves reflecting it like a million brilliant stars in the sea; I hadn’t long to wonder why he was out there.
Upon arriving, we set about getting the crew ready to load up the ship with halibut. I had hoped to have a few more experienced bodies on board in case things went south, but ya play with what yer dealt. The crew began, and it wasn’t until around midnight we had the number I’d set. They were awful clumsy, like they’d ne’er held a rod before! I bet my landlubber of a granny could set and reel better than half those scallywags! I must admit, it was quite entertainin’ at times, watchin’ em fall and flop all over the deck…
Hit our limit and the crew went into the hold. Some slept, others only tried to sleep. Felt sorry for some of the poor old un’s, but there’s not much a capt’n can do on the sea. Without the Lord on board to stop the sea a churnin’, they’d have to weather the waves like any old sea dog.
Woke early the next morning, got the crew up as well. It was dark, with a shallow ceiling and 4 or so foot waves. It rocked us mighty fierce, made it difficult to find a decent place. We set off at a brisk pace for a good spot to drop the lines. Took me a couple tries, but finally happened on a venerable trove of the fish. It was the strangest sight I ever did see though, when that green crew got five lines tangled together on the first drop! I was astounded! One of the lines even ‘ad a fish, which the poor fellow lost in the confusion.
The crew was reeling them in quick, only had trouble with one greenhorn after all the others had met their quoata. He’d lost at least 5 baits to the fish and come up empty-handed every time! Fellow had awful luck fishing, didn’t seem to bug ‘im much though. The crew decided to ‘elp ‘im out and they decided to all try and set a hook fer the lad. Well no sooner had the let their lines down, then they all three had fish biting! The boy had his choice of the largest of three fish in the end, that being the one on his own pole.
After that, we set off for home. It took us about 2 to 3 hours to make it back. The skies looked threatening, but we didn’t meet a squall the whole time. Made it back with the crew not very much the worse off. We unloaded everything on the dock, and the new crew left. I wonder if they’ll ever be back, silly to think I may run into them again. It’s a vast ocean, but a small world, mayhaps our courses will cross someday. Well, it’s been a long day, time for some shut-eye…
End of Captain Milo Lupholt’s Log