A Scottish Lament: A Short Story
“Boy,” barked the Captain, “do you smell it?”
“Tell me then. From which way does the wind blow?”
“’Tis as an easterly wind, sir.”
“Indeed it is. An easterly wind. Yet we’re dancing with serpents in the heart of the Atlantic, with thousands of miles of sea to bow and stern. What might I smell, if not the salty delicacies of Atlantis?”
The young lad of seventeen said nothing.
“Boy!” said the Captain, “I’ll take a blade to your cheeks and carve out a smile if you don’t soon part with the somber mood. Tell