Going the Wrong Way

The ship cut through the cold waters of the North Atlantic, nearing Greenland on its journey from Europe to Canada, destined for the Great Lakes. At the helm was Captain Marshall Blake, a seasoned mariner with decades of experience under his belt. A proud man, Marshall believed he knew the sea like the back of his hand. However, his confidence often masked a stubbornness that sometimes clouded his judgment.

As the ship's head cook, I had been part of Captain Blake's crew for fourteen years. While Marshall had a mostly spotless record, his occasional mistakes were monumental, sometimes putting lives at risk. Younger crew members, or "young pups" as Marshall fondly called them, had saved the day more than once. Yet, Marshall's pride wouldn't allow him to admit when he was wrong. Instead, he'd either bask in his perceived victories or retreat in shame when proven otherwise.

Our journey across the Atlantic was proceeding smoothly until a message from the company arrived via Richard Baker, our radio operator. Richard entered the bridge, holding a piece of paper with an urgent message.

"Excuse me, Captain," Richard began.

"Good morning, Richard. How can I assist you?" Captain Blake responded, preoccupied with other matters.

"I have an urgent message from the company," Richard said, trying to hand the message to the captain.

"Read it out loud, Richard. I can multitask, unlike some of these young crew members," the captain replied.

"Reports of icebergs in the vicinity. Proceed with caution," Richard read.

"Thank you, Richard. Nothing to worry about," Captain Blake dismissed.

Richard left the message on the map table and returned to his post.

Unbeknownst to the crew, the officer on watch was unaware of the iceberg warning. Half an hour later, as darkness fell, a lookout spotted an iceberg ahead.

"Iceberg on the port bow, about a mile ahead! Should we change course?" the lookout shouted.

The officer summoned Captain Blake and showed him the looming iceberg.

"Maintain present course and speed," the captain ordered.

The ship continued on its path, narrowly missing the iceberg until a crunch echoed through the ship, followed by a shudder. We had hit the iceberg.

The officer immediately ordered the engines to go full reverse, hoping to minimize the damage. But the damage was done. Water began flooding the ship's bow, and the ship started sinking.

"Abandon ship!" the captain yelled, rushing onto the deck.

As the crew scrambled into lifeboats, we watched our ship sink, three lifeboats full of crew members rowing away into the cold night.

"We'll head south and pick up the shipping lanes," Captain Blake assured us.

The crew rowed, trusting the captain's judgment. But instead of getting warmer, it grew colder. The overcast sky offered no clues for navigation, and doubts began to creep in.

"Captain, are we going the right way? It's getting colder," the officer of the watch finally spoke up.

"You hit the iceberg; you got us into this mess. Shut up and row!" Captain Blake snapped.

The next day, the overcast sky began to clear as night fell. Stars emerged, and the officer of the watch noticed the North Star.

"We're heading north, not south," he told his fellow crew members.

The captain looked up, dismissive at first. But as the truth sank in, his expression changed.

"Sir, permission to turn around and head south?" the officer asked.

The captain remained silent, his pride wounded.

Taking command, the officer turned the lifeboats around, heading south.

Two days later, we were rescued. Captain Blake never commanded a ship again, and the officer of the watch was promoted.

In the end, it was a young pup's navigation by the stars that saved us, proving that sometimes experience must yield to wisdom.