PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast
Moonlight broke into a thousand bright strips on the rolling ocean. The lamps had been lit, the smell of burning whale oil mixing with pipe tobacco and brine. From somewhere came the rasp of a squeeze box, a mournful song of home.
‘Do we have a heading, Mr Harrison?’ Captain Nash looked flushed even in the dim light, the smell of brandy seeping from him. A good man, if not a sober one.
Harrison stared down at the compass, broken in the storm. He shook his head.
Nash nodded and lumbered away. ‘Mr Guinea! Extra grog ration for every man.’
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. See the pic and write a story. See here to join in and to read the other tales.
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