"Ship astern, aft starboard," a voice echoed from aloft.  "Three masts and runnin' full!"

     Captain Morton grabbed his spyglass and moved to the rail.  Steadying himself against the firm railing he peered toward the horizon and searched for the approaching vessel, hiping his eyes would quickly adjust to the morning glare that was just making it's presence known.  He frowned when he finally saw what he was looking for.

     "What is it, Captain?"  Mr. Deprior softly spoke by his side.

     "It's her," he replied, lowering his glass and pondering.  "It's the Merriam!"

I stood, not moving, for in my mind I knew it was my fault that he was in this condition;  I blamed myself.  At the time I could have stopped him but I didn't.  I was too stubborn.