In The Teeth Of The Beast

This past Monday, the normally tranquil prairie ocean turned into a frozen sea not fit for man nor beast. The fluid swells had become statue-like frozen sculptures; sea lanes were hardened washboard currents that would make navigating difficult at best.

However, as master of the prairie schooner, my task was to report to my assigned harbor, and not making such an attempt would be considered treason at high sea.  Additionally, another task was in my hands with the delivery of the sweet maiden Miss Carol to her assigned port.

The prairie ponies seemed hearty and ready to go as I warmed them in their stable.  Fashioned to the schooner, Miss Carol on board, we sailed on the frozen sea. 

Although the sailing was slow, the schooner held steady in her course and the ponies pulled forcibly but without rush.  It seemed our journey would be a success and I was confident all would be well.  But, we then topped a frozen swell only to see four other sailing vessels at the bottom - floundering and listing hard.  The only choice for a sea faring captain was to employ a hard right rudder, and the ponies were begged to veer to their right so we could sail through the fare way of the local pastry shoppe. Our plan seem to be working well, but then, we saw the frozen plow-line made by a ice breaking vessel - a plow line that rose as high as the stern of the schooner. 

With forcible voice and hard leather across the backs of the ponies, I cheered the lads on asking them to pull harder and faster so we would break through the frozen impediment. The ponies made it through the embankment as the schooner tossed side to side.  The entire vessel fell free of the entrapment, but the plow-line was enough to slow our progress and the ponies lost their footing.  There we were - floundered at sea.

Photo courtesy of Sulphur Times Democrat

The local Scribner made note of our demise, forever etching our fate in a captured record.  Ship after ship would suffer the same fate as Miss Carol, myself, and the ponies would. 

A dispatch was sent to another captain who commands a much larger vessel with twice as many hooves.  Throwing me a taut line, I secured it the the bow of the schooner where Captain Tully and his 4X4 team would pull us out of the sea lane.  The captain then delivered Miss Carol to her port and me to mine with the promise to return so we could free my schooner, but, first he had other vessels to save. 

Several hours later the captain returned and we devised a route that insured a sea lane my schooner could sail.  The plan worked and the prairie schooner sailed freely to port.

The fish were calling, but the sea was too violent at the time to pursue their request.