Based on plot elements found in The Tempest, Cymbeline, Errors, Pyricles, Love's Labors Lost, All's Well that Ends Well & 12th Night
National Writers Guild - USA & New Zealand Writers Guild
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These sudden calms upon our voyage speaks
But ill and little good. I smell a storm
A coming' in by port and from the creaks
A'leeyward hear the crackle of the worm -
The great green serpentine whose gills flap sails 240
Whose teeth are marlin spikes and fids in each
And every lash that covers eyes whose pales
Are spars, a tongue - a whip, and fins whose reach
Are blades by thousands, each a razor's glint.
My bones tell me we're seeing but a hint
Of trouble here. A sly foreboding hid
Inside a gentle time. The stare that rids
Of fear before the strike that smites the foe.
O' happy hour of Harbor - Now of Woe!
Mast Ho! A Sail! I see its marking flags 250
Bold pennants of the Rogue. 'tis Pirate's dags.
How now Captain? Your easy stride now's terse
Your eye a stern look bowed within a curse.
You'd please to get your Masters and your selves
Down decks, into their cabin and your shelves.
A storm is coming hard. It may be rough.
Your caution and command is quite enough. (Spit exits)
Crow's-Nest! Upon horizons cast your eye.
What calls the weather that you see? How bye?
It is a sky of broiling ink, aye. Blast! 260
White rakes aplow too deep its billowed soil.
The seeds of our destruction's in them fast
Unless we Harbor hove or Cove do toil.
Then closer, too, our enemy draws fast
To take us in the storm. "Woe" Fates have cast.
I know these waters far too well. Shore's crest
Is enemy unto Narona men.
We once were allies, now allied against.
Our only Fortune is: This storm we fight
Those Pirates, too, must tangle with its might. 270
How hard it goes when we could run us in.
So is the way of vengeance for a sin.
My Captain! See I swells begin to swell
The higher still. They're driven on towards
Our tiny craft. Our risk and peril ill
Denies completion of our task. (big BOOM!)
As if this thunder wants more shout to fire
This Pirate blasts a cannon in the bouts.
Two enemies contending wreck us dire
One cannon's blast, one bolts to end our shouts 280
A sea to hide a whale inside its foam.
O' pity that I ever left my home.
Go Damn your eyes for Cowards! Keep a watch.
This storm is not yet at our 'wales. We've fight
Enough and strength enough to hold a patch
Of earthen wood on top of all this wat'ry might. (big BOOM!)
My Captain! Maelstroms, Water Spouts, Typhoons
Make good the Demons put on maps to scare.
The World - it finds its ending. All is Doom!
This is a Tempest we can match. Fate's Loom -- 290
-- The mix and pitch of waters roil and buff
Our planks, good Captain. Swells do heave us. Wailed
This Storm is Neptune's Fury, not the rough
Of baths we're used to, years tho' we have sailed.
Aye! In that flash, I sees me mountainous
A spire, a standing obelisk, off port
By two points stern. It is a sword to us
Sent to sunder lives and all our court
All Hands to Deck, Our Passengers, get now!
Bring all on deck. Fears crush with mad sea's pow'r 300
We drive soon broadside to the Rock, Captain.
Yon Pirate vessel smacks upon it now.
All splinters of a thousand trees, I vow.
Not sail nor tiller hoves us there. 'tis wind.
Come down, come down. We need no more report
Of Doom. We need your hands on deck. All Hands!
Our ship is Doomed, my lords. The Sea's retort
Conspires with Heaven's blasts to Herald sore
Against our marriage to soft moorings, sir.
One blessing small... The Pirates smashed before 310
Have thus removed one threat unto our Court.
Is nothing to be done to save our realm?
That has been done what could be done, sir. Were
Odysseus or Jason at the helm, --
we could no better fare. Let moorings slip
and lines from Mast Beams fly! All flotsam hove!
God speed you sirs, Abandon Ship! All Ship!
Unto what end have we been cursed by Jove?
Fear not my brothers. Arms shall anchor be.
An anchor is a sinking thing. But moor 320
Us to a raft of floating wreck and we
Will bob us like a float. The Fates know more
If fished for land or food for fish be catched.
Spit, Moan and Glut. Get to our stores and fetch
Our luggages. Tie them together. Wrench
Them over sides and cling you there. If pitch
Of seas allow, we'll meet upon the shore.
If not, be free on earth or high, e'er more.
We will obey and to your safety pray. 330
Now to it, lads. Before this barque displayed
In all its sundered glory is arrayed.
- End of Scene - Thanks to Hardwick & Sons, Inc. for support