Morris

The ship creaked and squealed under the weight of the storm. The air was crowded with the noises of sails ripping, men screaming orders, and the unrelenting din of the storm itself thundering above. At the time, I was hiding from my duties in my cabin, deep within the ship. Secretly, I found the situation thrilling.

I will concede that on more than one occasion, I sometimes imagined the sort of adventure I might have, shipwrecked and alone on a deserted island. There was a morbid romance to it.

I heard another crash outside. More and more men running past my door and shouting unintelligible things. I was beginning to grow worried. I gathered up my belongings in my trunk, should I need to evacuate with any great haste. Just as I was about to lock the trunk, I heard a high-pitched and peevish whine from under my desk. I turned around to find the source of the sound: Morris, the ship's cat. He was a graying and grumpy old beast, but he had taken a shine to me.

"Terrible, isn't it?" I asked him.

He replied with another meow and rubbed his face against my lower leg affectionately. He hopped across the room and bounded his way to atop my trunk.

"Don't worry, old man, I won't forget about you," I told Morris, soothing him as best I could.

I'm sure that if he could, he would have responded favourably.

There was more commotion outside. I was certain that I had pulled the phrase "Get to the lifeboats" from the cacophony.

"Come on, Morris," I told the cat, shockingly calmly despite the present circumstances, "I think it might be time for us to leave."

He came down from the trunk and followed at my heels. I dragged my possessions out of my cabin and in the direction of the lifeboats. Morris stayed close by at all times. He was a pleasantly simple creature; he had no earthly items to worry about bringing along.

My final moments aboard the ship remain a blur. I do know that Morris and I made it to a lifeboat and I know that we were alone aboard it. However, all that remains after that is a terrible cracking noise, the loudest either of us had ever heard. Past that, my memory is blank. I awoke surrounded by foggy ocean with only Morris for company. I was grateful to have him. I found a cache of water bottles and dehydrated rations that might last us a few weeks.

The cat looked up at me forlornly as if to ask "why us?"

"I don't know, Morris. I just don't know."

We were adrift for days. Sometimes, just for something to do, I would shout at the fog that hung all around us. I begged the sea itself for mercy. Of course, nothing came of it.

I was thankful that Morris was a light eater and a heavy sleeper. While I spent my time hollering at no one for help, Morris was doing the smart thing and saving his energy. He was much wiser than I originally thought.