storm of the sea

The sea was in trouble; turning from blue to black Nothing alive could survive, said Captain Quack His ship was bouncing by the storm this night Everything felt lose, nothing tied down tight. We were tossed and blown, a sailor fell into the sea. He screamed a few times, many hands counted three. A shark was seen circling, so we turned away. It was too gruesome to think about, too late to pray. Our clipper ship was bound for the West Indies. Where spices were waiting of all textures and degrees. We lost four bodies in all during this storm of strife. Two cooks, a whipping boy, and the captain’s wife.