Don’t go down with the ship!

The longevity of nautical phrases is likely because they are so absolute. They were coined in the days of masts, sails and leaky wooden-hulled ocean-going vessels.

There’s no wiggle room in these phrases’ directives. For instance, “walking the plank” meant you were about to drown. It didn’t matter if you were a strong swimmer. You were presumably in the middle of an ocean or sea. A shoreline was days away for said swimmer. Not survivable. And, backing up wasn’t an option, either. A step backward would have been met with a sword prodding or maybe a full on thrust to dispatch a mortally wounded sailor into the water below. No wiggle room.

“Going down with the ship” is usually the fate of the captain and ship’s rats. So, like walking the plank, going down with the ship meant drowning, certain death. A captain going down with his ship was probably linked to two things. One, the ship sinking resulted from the captain’s decisions. Two, being responsible for the crew’s imminent demise (even though the crew might escape in the ship’s long boats, that likely wouldn’t make it to land), the crew would have killed said captain before he could swing one leg into one of the boats. The first officer would likely have scrambled to scoop up the ship’s logs and a few weapons to defend himself if he made it onto a lifeboat.

The lifeboat represented hope in a dire moment. These vessels were designed to take men back and forth to land from where a ship was anchored well offshore. The narrow boats were meant for a harbor’s calm waters, not ocean swells. They would easily capsize and didn’t hold much in the way of cargo or provisions. But one could hope they would survive. They had a chance.

Right now, so many Americans find themselves in a figurative “lifeboat” on stormy seas. We are being buffeted about, holding on for dear life as our livelihoods and future of the traditional “American” promise or prosperity sink out of sight. The good news, for some of us, is we made it off the ship. The captain and the rats are still aboard it, certain they will prevail, despite the tattered sails and waves swamping it. No one will survive unscathed.

Some are bewildered, others resigned. Few were prepared. So, hold on. And pray. The world is struggling to stay afloat and weather this mega storm. Like all life and death matters, the fight becomes a personal battle. Attacks come from all sides. There are no friends. Most people are too busy trying to save their own skins to reach out to help others. 

Keep your head above water. Yeah? And, as much as possible, keep your wits about you. Don’t panic. I know, that’s a hard one. So, back to praying. Look for that break in the clouds, that ray of sunshine trying to break through, signaling hope.

Hope. It’s the best we have. Try to help others if you can. It’s a struggle to risk your own well-being for another’s, maybe a stranger’s. But it’s what makes us human. Good humans. Keep swimming, paddling. Looking for the signs of land on the horizon. We just might survive this to rebuild, reclaim a semblance of our previous life. It will be hard. Be ready for that. But hey, if you make it out of this, celebrate being alive. Maybe having an intact family and some resources.

“Land Ho!” Hopefully, we’ll hear that ringing cry sooner than later.