The Ship

The Thetford Park

Note: This is a chapter from the book Thetford Park, written by John and Pierre Bedard.

In the right company, most sailors will tell you that vessels have a soul and react according to how they are treated. On my run, hundreds of miles from everywhere, little stands between my crew and infinity. I am the tie that binds them to their reality.

Ships are built, christened and launched. We have feelings. We have our little ways. We throw metallic tantrums. We are not human, but we stand with humans as part of a much larger altogether. Standing on the flying wing of my bridge on a dark night, with nothing but the sky and the elements facing you for hours, you can hear me if you listen. Don’t think you are alone. You are not. You never were and never will be.

I am 10,000 tonnes gross and was launched by Vickers in Montréal a little over two years ago. Don’t be fooled by my looks. My design is from the past war, the one meant to end all wars. My crew often claims I was built for a smaller, less well-fed people. Don’t curse me if you have to go sideways entering that door or if you bang your head. I . . . Click here for the full article

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