The Last Voyage

A ship’s last voyage The tank ship that looked like a schooner finally made it from the black sea to Reykjavik in Iceland The ship dry as the dust of the Sahara surrounded by undrinkable water, the crew was eager to go ashore and find a watering- hole selling beer. Back then, Reykjavik was a dark town with few streetlights and in the throes of temperance There was no booze or wine, only watery beer that was awful but in our situation better than nil. The first café we came to was full of individuals reading books in silence; we didn’t know Iceland is a literate place everyone reads or write books when not talking about literature but for us it was a boring café we wanted fun and light. We found a café selling beer, and the crew got hold a bottle of homemade booze; in a country where alcohol intake is restricted, people make their own wine or liquor. The voyage had been long and arduous; the ship and her captain had survived the war and hoped their voyage would last forever; it didn’t last Of all ironies, the ship returned to Odessa and sold as scrap iron.