Vicissitude

Home was a dot on the horizon months ago... There hasn't been wind for the sails in weeks... Moral is low... confidence in the venture wanes... Whispers of mutiny have been echoing below decks... As the food dwindles... so too does reason... Tension finally snaps in an uproar of violence... In the dead of night... fallen torches from slain sailors make short work of wooden planks.