"What is truth?" said jesting Stefansson, and would not stay for an answer. Stefansson was ahead of his time. For 'truth' itself is an abstract noun, the madcap Canadian anthropologist and Ethnologist went ahead in search of the truth he believes - the lost continent under Arctic - Atlantic.
I , Captain Bob Barlett, hired to aid this journey. Along with us were the ' scientists ' , a formerly screenwriter and a mariner. Stefansson, the gasbag , repleted with ego, was nothing more than a wolf in sheep skin.
The crew, betided in presage of what lies for them out in the Arctic. The ship, was an extra dismay. Few of Stefansson's main man had cold feet, by accounts, another of their breed. Zephyr was constant. Sometimes abashed the men. Jennifer Niven, the screenwriter , much of a recluse, didn't share the neurotic of the many. Bartlett, the mariner, his predilection for literature and women wasn't known by no one.
January 10th, our luck ran out. Karluk lifespan ended. With a deafening roar, the ice smashed through the ship's hull, water gushed in, the ship slowly decleived. A stream of invective came from the captain's mouth, and behested to abandon ship.
It was in the middle of the dark smoggy night, some of our fellow crew took their last breath of chilled air. Their face drained, their eyes lost their souls. I closed them and prayed. Bartlett, in owe of his energetic spirit and esoteric knowledge only a couple of us survived. Niven's- account- always alive to the nuances of human strength and weakness- is the strongest as she reaccounts the tales of faith of previous voyages. On a faithful day, a numbered lucky 13 people survived the tyranny, sadly our captain, a honest, fearless, reliable, loyal and everything a man should be , couldn't pull it through.
Narrowly did i escape from the jaws of the freeze monster, I would never step into it again. I cannot deny the truism of thought that many people will continue this icy path, and we will be the forerunners and exemplifiers for them.
Can anyone give me suggestions for this essay? I welcome negative comments.
I , Captain Bob Barlett, hired to aid this journey. Along with us were the ' scientists ' , a formerly screenwriter and a mariner. Stefansson, the gasbag , repleted with ego, was nothing more than a wolf in sheep skin.
The crew, betided in presage of what lies for them out in the Arctic. The ship, was an extra dismay. Few of Stefansson's main man had cold feet, by accounts, another of their breed. Zephyr was constant. Sometimes abashed the men. Jennifer Niven, the screenwriter , much of a recluse, didn't share the neurotic of the many. Bartlett, the mariner, his predilection for literature and women wasn't known by no one.
January 10th, our luck ran out. Karluk lifespan ended. With a deafening roar, the ice smashed through the ship's hull, water gushed in, the ship slowly decleived. A stream of invective came from the captain's mouth, and behested to abandon ship.
It was in the middle of the dark smoggy night, some of our fellow crew took their last breath of chilled air. Their face drained, their eyes lost their souls. I closed them and prayed. Bartlett, in owe of his energetic spirit and esoteric knowledge only a couple of us survived. Niven's- account- always alive to the nuances of human strength and weakness- is the strongest as she reaccounts the tales of faith of previous voyages. On a faithful day, a numbered lucky 13 people survived the tyranny, sadly our captain, a honest, fearless, reliable, loyal and everything a man should be , couldn't pull it through.
Narrowly did i escape from the jaws of the freeze monster, I would never step into it again. I cannot deny the truism of thought that many people will continue this icy path, and we will be the forerunners and exemplifiers for them.
Can anyone give me suggestions for this essay? I welcome negative comments.