Day Three Hundred Thirty Seven #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

On deck the air radiated hot and oppressive, despite the fact of our swift forward motion. At the bow it was more akin to a blast furnace.

Elijah stayed in the sanctuary cabin over night and was missing from the vigil we were keeping on the bridge in the early dawn hours.  So I assumed he was still there.

Out of the grayness a wide expanse of ocean came into focus beyond the closing pincers of the enveloping morass.

The Captain despaired. In his judgment the welcome sight was still too far away.

But then it were as if we crossed a line into a polar region and a fierce wind blew from behind us forward, forcing the pincers apart.

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