The Gulf Stream

Winslow Homer, The Gulf Stream (1899)

The man on the boat is wearing nothing but
pants, stranded in the middle of the ocean,
staring to the left to avoid seeing the sharks'
gaping maws; he refuses to give them the
satisfaction of tasting his fear. He's beginning
to lose hope as he hears the howling whirlwind
slowly approaching--in fact, it seems the closer
it gets, the slower it moves, until everything 
comes to a 
stop.
The burning sun sears his skin, but the light
gives him strength; he stoically accepts his
fate as his mind begins to wander: what did
he do to deserve this, and 
what will happen to his family when he's gone and 
what will happen when he dies, and 
by God, if he makes it out of
this alive he'll never drink again, never
neglect his kid, never
argue with his wife, never...
It's funny, he thinks, how suddenly
there's so much time, enough to do anything
in the world, if only it weren't for the
crashing waves, the ravenous sharks,
the wailing whirlwind. He's seen
the distant ship--is it a ship, or a cloud, or
a figment of his imagination?--but
he refuses to stare at it, he
doesn't believe it will bear the weight
of his faith, he knows there's nothing more
torturous in the world than
a false hope.