"There's not enough wind Captain!"
    Creaton paid little mind to the cries from his shipmate. He knew this voyage would not  finnish the way he planned. Creaton turned his mammoth head to the stern of his galley and walked slowly up the steps towards the wheel. Each step grew more difficult. Creaton cursed himself for such cowardice.
    Arriving atop the back of the ship, he made his way to the wheel but his eyes never left the back horizon. Several crew members were already gathered at the stern railing.
    "Captain, what is it?" one called.
    "Our destruction" he thought.
    Yarnt held the wheel steady, his muscles strained against the raging waters which pitched the large ship easily. Creaton chuckled and murmured "The raging torrent and none of it enough to escape". Yarnt quirked an eye to his Captain at the modest glint of humor.
    "There's not enough wind" Creaton repeated.
    "Aye" Yarnt replied.
    "Our death approaches".
    "Aye".
    "Curse you Yarnt, and your blood".
    Yarnt did not reply to the insult as such was common from his Captain during times of catastrophe. He held the wheel steady and maintained his focus to the front of the ship.
    Creaton raged to the back railing and scattered those gathered. He glared and sent several more curses over the side and into the seas. Finally, with his breath short, he placed both hands upon the railing and stared at the oncoming catastrophe. Creaton's mind churned....