After a search, somebody produced three dry matches, and thereupon the four waifs rode in their little boat, and with an assurance of an impending rescue shining in their eyes, puffed at the big cigars and judged well and ill of all men. They were a captain, an oiler, a cook, and a correspondent, and they were friends, friends in a more curiously iron-bound degree than may be common. At the moment when the correspondent digs through his pocket, the men are likely to see themselves optimistically—as the four dry cigars—because their cooperation and hard work has seemingly put them on track to defeat nature. But the men fought the seas bravely, with all their strength. The busy oiler nodded his assent. A little more south, sir, said the oiler in the stern.
He had more success in 1895 with his second work,. Thereafter he knows the pathos of his situation. In a low voice the correspondent addressed the captain. It must be that there's a life-saving station there somewhere. Then the correspondent performed his one little marvel of the voyage.
The sun swung steadily up the sky, and they knew it was broad day because the color of the sea changed from slate to emerald-green, streaked with amber lights, and the foam was like tumbling snow. There must be a life-saving station up there. I can see it plain. The oiler, steering with one of the two oars in the boat, sometimes raised himself suddenly to keep clear of water that swirled in over the stern. After publishing this book, Crane was hired as a reporter, which also allowed him to collect material for his own stories.
To express any hope at this time they felt to be childish and stupid. The oiler was ahead in the race. Then he saw the man again, jumping into the water. The coast was still far away. It is the belief that in nature, we are at the mercy only of our own abilities. It takes a large struggle to do it, but eventually they get onto the shore and get help. And the lands welcome for the sailors body could only be its final resting place.
The captain naturally wished to knock it away with the end of the heavy painter, but he did not dare do it, because anything resembling an emphatic gesture would have capsized this freighted boat, and so with his open hand, the captain gently and carefully waved the gull away. The roar of the surf was plain, and sometimes they could see the white lip of a wave as it spun up the beach. She did not seem cruel to him, nor beneficent, nor treacherous, nor wise. The morning appeared finally, in its splendor with a sky of pure blue, and the sunlight flamed on the tips of the waves. It was a bus — a hotel bus. The correspondent, pulling at the other oar, watched the waves and wondered why he was there.
It's mostly straightforward, and doesn't have much plot, and that's why I didn't love it. There was a long, loud swishing astern of the boat, and a gleaming trail of phosphorescence, like blue flame, was furrowed on the black waters. There was the shore of the populous land, and it was bitter and bitter to them that from it came no sign. Their eyes glanced level, and were fastened upon the waves that swept toward them. But there was no land to be seen.
If we stay out here too long, none of us will have the strength left to swim after the boat sinks. It seemed like only a brief period, but it was more than an hour later, when the sailor returned the oars to the reporter. This program was adapted for Special English by Shelley Gollust and produced by Lawan Davis. We can see them smoking and drinking, and imagine them celebrating their impending rescue, but is there something else? Previously to the foundering, by the way, the oiler had worked double-watch in the engine-room of the ship. Perhaps it's a life-saving station.
After Crane's premature death from at the age of 28, his work enjoyed a resurgence of popularity. The people on the boat were part of a crew. The men shouted angrily at them, telling them to be gone. The speed and power of the thing was greatly to be admired. The waves change color from grey to green, signaling the sunrise, but the men are too focused on the approaching waves to notice. Seeing the lighthouse in the distance made him change his whole lookout on their situation.