Diary of the Open Boat

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Introduction

Literature has often been recognized as one of the most fundamental part of the society. It is mainly used in the contemporary society to educate, entertain, as well as outline some ills in the society while creating in the minds of readers a picture of an ideal society and what it incorporates. In some cases, the literature captures real-life details of an occurrence in the life of the author, not necessarily in the shape of an autobiography. This is the case for Stephen Crane’s short story “The Open Boat”. This short story captures the real-life experiences of Stephen Crane when a ship on which he was sailing to Cuba in 1898 in the high seas off the Florida coast sank. He was heading to Cuba as an American newspaper’s correspondent aiming at writing about the problems that resulted in the 1898 Spanish- American war. The key characters in the story are four men, including the correspondent, the oiler, the cook and the captain. Being left in a little boat in the troublesome and unforgiving sea, the men spend two nights in the seas trying to reach the main land. While they can see the mainland, they cannot dare take their boats close to it as this would potentially result in the crashing of the boat on the shores thanks to the strong waves, which would endanger their lives. Eventually, the inevitable happens when their boat is flipped over and they must swim to the shores. However, only the correspondent, the captain and the cook make it to the shore as the oiler, who ironically is the strongest swimmer, drowns in the seas. Needless to say, the characters would have recorded the story in different ways in their diaries. This is how the correspondent’s diary must have looked like.

Hour 1: The waters seem amazing and dangerous at the same time. Is it not funny that we always fall in love with the beaches and admire the seas while not appreciating their strength and the danger they pose? I used to love them (and still have a soft spot for them) but my love has waned after the sea sank my ship. God knows what the dangerous sea can do to this tiny boat. God must be laughing up there at our folly.

Hour 2: Were it not for the danger in which we are, this would make an incredible boating expedition. Of course, not with the weary and injured captain who seems to exhibit profound indifference and dejections that comes to even the most enduring and bravest in the face of danger. The captain has given the oiler a directive to keep the boat a little south, which the oiler obeys. I think it is amazing that the captain can keep up his stature despite the danger and his injury and subsequent indifference.

Hour 3: It is hard to appreciate the terrible grace of the waves in their silence, especially considering the snarling of their crest. I am sure the other men have too much preoccupying their minds that they simply do not care. I wonder whether they would have noticed the daybreak, save for the change in the color of waves rolling to them.

Hour 4: The cook talks of a house of refuge situated north of the Mosquito Inlet Light. I am sure he wishes we were there as he thinks the crew down there would come from their boat and pick us up. Too bad he does not know that there are no crews in Houses of Refuge. Apparently, ignorance is bliss. Maybe the pessimism of the oiler in stating that whichever the case we are no close to the House of Refuge jolts us back to reality. It is undoubtedly difficult to keep up the optimism.

Hour 5: Thousands of birds stare at us. I wonder whether they feel pity at us. One even had the audacity of alighting at the captain’s head. I cannot help laughing at the insinuation by the cook that the bird looked as if it was carved with a jack knife. However ominous it was, it was a welcome diversion from the even more ominous sea.

Hour 6: The sight of the mainland shoves up our spirits. So near yet so far, I thought as the boat made some progress evidenced only by the sea-weed. Taking turns at the oars, the captain says that we should save out energy as we will still need it (Crane 730). Now that is a spoiler. We need all the optimism we can have. The thunder strikes as if to confirm that the captain is right. Too bad we will have to go back to the sea.

Hour 7: The House of Refuge is visible alright. Too bad I am proven right. The captain notes the lack of life in the house or not even a life-station within a radius of twenty miles. It is hard not to be cowardly in this situation. Even harder is thinking of the unsavory finish especially after exchanging admonitions and addresses. At least the Oiler seems steady and strong enough to be the only one to survive. I cannot help appreciating his expertise as he takes the boat further into the sea.

Hour 8: Someone wonders how people at the shore could have failed to see us. Sure someone waves at us from the shoreline. Our hopes resurface again especially at the thought that we were going to survive after all. They beckon us to the shore. Surely, they must be getting the life crew, of course, unless they think we are having fun in the sea. Funny how that thought sounds.

Hour 9: The air is quite panicky now. Too bad the individuals in the shore were not helpful at all. Worse still, it is getting dusk and the waves are no relenting. They seem to be eating onto the strength of the boat. The oiler and I decide to row until we have no strength to left, after which the rower would call another person (Crane 733). Sure the oiler does just that, takes a nap and rows yet again after I have no strength left to row.

Hour 10: With this darkness, it is hard not to think of the babes of the sea. An enormous fin cuts through the water close to the boat leaving a shiny long trail (Crane 735). Why would we have to survive from the sinking ship only to perish in the boat with the shore so near? Nature and fate can be so ruthless. Maybe the only valuable thing in life is love for your fellow man. The only warmth in the boat is from my sleeping brothers.

Hour 11: Nature must have read my curses and decided to punish us. Too bad our boat is nowhere to be seen. Swimming to the shore safety, I wonder whether it was some sort of joke from nature. But what kind of a joke is this that leads to the loss of a life? A sick joke, apparently. I cannot help mourning the death of my friend, my brother, the oiler. Such a strong swimmer he was. Too bad he was not so strong against the waves.

Works cited

Crane, Stephen. The Open Boat and Other Stories. New York: Dover Publications, 1993. Print.